


Aches

by Jadzibelle



Series: Aches and Pains [1]
Category: Haven - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Episodes 3.23/4.01, F/M, Guilt/Self-Loathing, Loss, M/M, Multi, Pining, Potential Eventual OT3, brief mention of suicidal thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-02-23 23:16:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 74,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2559392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadzibelle/pseuds/Jadzibelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nathan realized he’d made a mistake about half a breath after he sent Duke into the Barn after Audrey.  In the moment, the idea of losing her, of losing the one person in the world he could feel, was overwhelming; he couldn’t think of anything else, and the only person he could trust, the only person he could rely on to try and get her back, was Duke.  He didn’t think, when he begged him to go after her, didn’t consider the consequences until it was too late.</p><p>Until the Barn was gone, and Duke and Audrey with it, and Nathan was suddenly, terribly alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Nathan realized he’d made a mistake about half a breath after he sent Duke into the Barn after Audrey.  In the moment, the idea of losing her, of losing the one person in the world he could feel, was overwhelming; he couldn’t think of anything else, and the only person he could trust, the only person he could rely on to try and get her back, was Duke.  He didn’t think, when he begged him to go after her, didn’t consider the consequences until it was too late.

Until the Barn was gone, and Duke and Audrey with it, and Nathan was suddenly, terribly alone.  Alone, and with no recourse, no backup, no friends.  And not just gone, but crumpled, collapsed, dissolved- he’d done that.  He’d killed Agent Howard, and he’d killed the Barn, and probably Audrey with it, and then, _then_ , to compound his sins, he’d _sent Duke in_ , and now they were both gone.  Maybe, _probably_ , worse.

He was bleeding, badly; he couldn’t feel it, but he was dying, and he was going to die alone.  He was going to die alone, and it was his own damn fault, he’d done this, and _now_ , when it was too late to change anything, _now_ he was afraid.  Dazed, sluggish, his mind drifted; a sunny day, the air full of the crisp scent of late summer and the heavy smell of turned earth as he toiled alone, digging a grave for his father.  Until he wasn’t alone, because Duke had come to him, had put aside years of enmity to stand with him as he buried the last of his family.

Because Duke had _always_ , in the end, put aside everything dark between them to stand at Nathan’s side when there was no one else who could.

He blinked, or maybe blacked out a little, and he was... somewhere else.  Lying sprawled on his back in a road, Audrey leaning over him, frantic, panicked, tears on her cheeks and in her voice as she clung to him, and her hands on him were bright points of sensation, the warmth of her body soothing even though he knew something was wrong.  She was pleading with him, and it was fine, because all he could feel was her, and he... didn’t think this had ever happened, or maybe it had and he’d forgotten, that happened in Haven, but Audrey was there, trying to keep him together with sheer determination.

Because Audrey always tried to fix things, even things broken beyond repair, and she’d never given up on him.

He blinked again, and the memory faded, because Audrey was gone, and Duke was gone, and it was his fault.  There was no one left to stand with him, no one left to fix him.

A sound.  He wasn’t alone, not technically.  Jordan was there, bleeding from the two bullets Duke had put in her, his lightning-fast, brutal reprisal- Duke had always been protective, had always been fierce.  But Jordan didn’t deserve to die because she’d tried to stop Nathan, and he could touch her, he could get the bleeding stopped, could make sure that the EMTs could help...  He couldn’t die yet.  He had work to do, to try and fix this, to try and make up for what he’d done.

He had work left to do, no matter how alone he was.


	2. Chapter 2

The blows rained down, one after another after another, and it was fine.  Nathan couldn’t feel them, and honestly, he didn’t give a shit what they were doing to his ribs, his lungs, his kidneys.  Sooner or later, one of these hits would put him down, and he was fine with that.  Until then, the money kept him going, kept a roof overhead and food in his stomach because he was too much of a fucking coward to just put a gun in his mouth.  He kept looking, desperately searching for some little shred of hope, some sign, and there was nothing.  Of course there was nothing, there would never _be_ anything.

A fist slammed into his jaw, and he staggered a bit, his balance thrown off.  The biker in front of him handed him his money, and laughed.

“Man, you are one crazy dude.  But you’re right- it did feel good.”  As he walked off, Nathan quirked a dark, ironic little smile.

“Cheaper than therapy,” he said, and spat out a mouthful of blood.  And maybe he couldn’t feel how it hurt, but he could take some satisfaction in the taste of his own blood, in the slow way his body responded after a few rounds of this, in knowing he was getting some fraction of the punishment he deserved.

It wasn’t enough, it couldn’t be enough, but it was something.

He was about to call in the next taker, but something distracted him.  A scent, some... tiny trace of a thing.  Seawater, salt, the faintest trace of alcohol- he shouldn’t be able to smell it, not with his mouth full of blood.  It wasn’t the first time, either, wasn’t the first phantom scent, or ghostly sound.  Sometimes, if he’d gotten smacked too hard in the head, he’d even have a single, terrible moment where he could feel the gentle warmth of body heat against his skin.

“All right, I need a break,” he said, reaching for his beer.  It was cheap and harsh and awful, and it would chase the phantom smell away.  He took a drink, and a hand appeared in his field of vision, clutching a twenty.  He shoved it away, because the beer _wasn’t helping_ , the scent was _stronger_ now, and richer, musk and spice that couldn’t quite be categorized because they were _personal_ in a way that he knew was creepy to most people.  “I need a _break_ ,” he snarled, impatient, angry, because it had never been this bad before, and it was twisting him up, bringing it all back-

“I would have suggested Jamaica,” Duke said, and Nathan froze, for just a moment, eyes going wide.  He turned, slowly, unsteady, and he was _there_ , standing _right there_.  Whole, and alive, with an expression on his face that Nathan couldn’t hope to interpret, warm and intense and so very _Duke_ that it threw Nathan off balance.  He couldn’t reconcile it, couldn’t make it fit.  He reached out, for all the good it would do, and his hand found solid mass, resistance.  So did his other hand, and he could see that Duke had reached out, and there was faint pressure on his shoulder, Duke pressing back, gripping tight.  He gave a breathy little sound, maybe ‘hey’, maybe ‘Nate’, and Nathan didn’t care which it was, couldn’t care.

He dragged Duke close, frantic, clinging, burying his face in Duke’s shoulder, dragging in a breath, and the scent of him was overwhelming now, Nathan was drowning in it, and it _had_ to be real.  There was more pressure, jarring, deliberately so- Duke knew how to hug back so that Nathan would be aware of it, even if he couldn’t feel it.

Then, “You smell.”  A pause.  “Bad.”

Nathan choked on a laugh even as he pulled away, because that, that was Duke, absolutely and impossibly Duke, and he was _real_ , he was _alive_.

“I thought you were _dead_ ,” he said, and it was more plaintive, more telling, than he wanted it to be, but there wasn’t really much reason for pretense when he’d greeted Duke by dragging him into his arms.

“Yeah, well,” Duke said, still with that strange, warm expression, that intensity that left Nathan oddly dizzy.  “I had other plans.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

Duke was a little bit horrified.

No, check that, he was _completely fucking horrified_.  Of all the things he’d imagined coming back to, even after finding out that it had been _months_ and not _seconds_ , this was not one of them.  Finding out it had been months had been bad, had been _awful_ , because against his better judgement, he’d left Nathan alone and bleeding, maybe _dying_ , and since getting in touch with anyone in Haven had been incredibly difficult, he’d spent way longer than he was comfortable with not even knowing if Nathan had made it back to town after the Barn disappeared.  When Dave had told him where he might be able to _find_ Nathan, Duke had expected-

-Duke hadn’t known what to expect, actually.  But it wasn’t this.  It wasn’t Nathan letting himself be _beaten_ for a few bucks.  Jennifer’s prodding had shocked him out of his stupor enough to make him act, and he’d fallen straight into bravado to cover his dismay, but he was shaken.  Even the raw, overwhelming relief of seeing Nathan _alive_ , even the rush of pure, shocked pleasure at seeing Nathan look at him like that, of seeing Nathan _beam_ at him, couldn’t completely chase away his unsteadiness, and he was still reeling when Nathan asked the inevitable.

Audrey.

It was crushing, seeing the fear, the panic, the thinly masked anger on Nathan’s face.  Partly because Nathan was stoic to the point of expressionless more often than not, and that Nathan was _showing_ those things meant they were barely held in check; partly because Duke had to disappoint him, and just then, it was the last thing in the world Duke wanted to do.

Duke managed to convince him to at least get cleaned up before they went haring off, and Nathan yielded with less ill-grace than Duke had expected, given his expressions.  And if Duke was staying a little closer to Nathan than normal, well, Nathan had his fingers tangled in Duke’s shirt, so it probably wasn’t _unwelcome_ , at least.

The filthy little apartment behind the bar that Nathan dragged Duke into was awful, and Duke wasn’t entirely sure how Nathan was able to breathe; Duke was left dizzy by the stench, and he didn’t have Nathan’s exceptional sense of smell.  For that matter, the wallpaper was an offence against nature, and he was pretty sure Nathan’s eyes were generally pretty sharp and pretty sensitive, as well.  If this was how Nathan had been getting by for the last six months...  Duke felt something twist in his stomach, pain and loss and jealousy and overwhelming frustration at himself, because he was supposed to fix this, he was supposed to bring Audrey back, and he hadn’t.  He hadn’t, and it was plain as day that Nathan couldn’t manage without her.

“Nate, buddy,” he started, and if his voice was a little thick, a little rough, he was blaming it on the fumes from the kitchen corner.  Nathan looked at him, and Duke lost his train of thought at the _wonder_ in Nathan’s expression, at the way he tilted his head as though he wanted to absorb Duke’s voice through his skin.  It hurt; Duke had wanted Nathan to look at him that way for- well.  Longer than he liked to admit.  Seeing it now, when he knew it was just because he represented a thin, miniscule chance that Audrey had been spat out somewhere as well...  Nathan made a questioning sound, and Duke glanced pointedly at his shirt, where Nathan was still clinging.  “Unless you need help in the shower, you’re prolly gonna have to let go.”

Duke was probably imagining that hint of reluctance, that tiny flash of panic.  Nathan detangled his fingers, and Duke regretted the necessity of saying anything; he caught Nathan’s hand before he could completely pull back, flicking his fingers over Nathan’s knuckles.  “Just sayin’.  I’m not going anywhere.”

“Just...  Can you...”  Nathan seemed to be struggling with the words, and that, well, that was Nathan all over.  Verbal communication had never been his strong suite.

“What do you need?” Duke asked, because he’d fucked up, he hadn’t done the one thing Nathan had entrusted him to do, and if there was any way he could help, now...

“Just... talk.  Please?”  Nathan seemed to be aware of the irony of that request, shifting awkwardly, a hint of a blush on his cheeks above his beard of manly sorrow, and Duke couldn’t keep back a slow grin, despite the hot burn of guilt.

“After all the time you’ve spent telling me to shut the hell up, now you’re asking me not to?” he asked, and Nathan scowled at him, and it was so much more like Nathan than the wonder, the joy.  It was reassuring.

“Tell me what happened.”  It was a reasonable enough request, and Duke nodded, finding a tolerably clear chair and dragging it over to sit directly in front of the bathroom door.  He dropped into it, and Nathan retreated into the bathroom, leaving the door half-open as he started to strip.  Duke swallowed hard, and turned in his seat, focusing on the appalling wallpaper.  Normally, he’d take the chance to ogle; Nathan, however, was behaving too oddly for Duke to be comfortable sneaking a peak, and he was pretty sure Nathan was going to be covered in bruises, and he couldn’t deal with that just yet.

“I went in.  Everything was... it was falling apart.  It was creepy in there, Nate, all... bare white walls, very Matrix, very... secret-government-agency, not exactly what I expected to find.  Chunks were being pulled off, spinning out into empty space...”  The water kicked on with a scream from the pipes, and Duke raised his voice, pitching it so it’d carry over the sound of the water.  “There were... memories, I guess.  Playing over the walls.  Audrey talking to Agent Howard, Audrey talking...  Talking to James.”  He swallowed again, his throat tight at the reminder of that.  Of Audrey’s expression, baffled and distressed, as she asked why killing her own son would end the Troubles.  At his answer, that it was because she loved him.  He’d put it together, then, recognized what it meant, realized the threat- and he’d been so stunned, so horrified, that he’d frozen, stopped paying attention to the maelstrom around him.  “I wasn’t there more than fifteen, twenty seconds.  Then I got caught, got pulled.  I was falling, and when I landed, I hit water.”

“Water?” Nathan called, a hint of curiosity and confusion in his tone.

“Water,” Duke confirmed.  “More specifically, a seal tank, in an aquarium, in Boston.  Splashed down in front of a dozen kids and parents.  I was in cuffs almost before the aquarium staff managed to haul me out of the water.  I do not like the police in Boston, seriously, I will take the Haven PD over them any day of the week.”  He paused, hoping for a response, having provided Nathan an excellent opening for a pointed barb about Duke’s character, but there was nothing but the sound of water running.

“Keep going,” Nathan instructed, after a long moment, and Duke thought he caught another bit of panic in the harsh edge of Nathan’s voice.

“I tried to tell them who I was, told them to call you.  I...  I hadn’t figured out, then, that it was...  That it’d been _months_ , out here.  And that freaked me out, let me tell you, because it felt like just _seconds_.”  Duke shivered, and pushed the fear down.  Nathan was alive, he was _right there_.  “Of course, Haven PD was no goddamn help, told Boston PD that I had been dead for months, so they were going to book me on identity theft, on top of breaking and entering at the aquarium.  I thought that the law had to wait seven years before someone could be declared dead without a body, or, y’know, a witness claiming death, I am anticipating hellacious paperwork to fix this, and I am _not_ looking forward to that.  Of course, they hadn’t arrested me, exactly, yet, they had me checked out at the hospital, and they were waiting for psych evaluation, apparently I was ‘exhibiting disturbed behavior’.  Which, I was _fucking disturbed_ , I _blinked_ and lost six months, and I didn’t-” he broke off, because he hadn’t meant to go there.  “And the- having Haven PD tell Boston I was toast, I was...  I figured you weren’t there, because _you_ , I mean, I assumed _you_ would have taken my damn _call_.”

“Sorry,” Nathan volunteered, and Duke pushed down an entirely unreasonable feeling of suspicion.  Nathan didn’t apologize, it was not a thing he did, not to Duke.

“Yeah, well.  Anyway, I was just preparing to try and slip the cuffs- they _cuffed_ me to the hospital bed, seriously, I am _not_ fond of Boston- when the nurse tells me that it’s my _sister_ to see me.  And I’m about to dispute that, because I do not have any sisters, and then she tells me that it’s my sister _Audrey_.”  Duke heard the sharp inhale, the faint thud, and he hoped Nathan hadn’t damaged himself somehow.  “It wasn’t her, Nate, don’t hurt yourself,” he said, a note of bitterness creeping into his voice.  Which wasn’t fair, he’d had the same damn reaction, the hope had been _painful_.  “But I didn’t know that, either, and...  I thought...  But she lets this chick in, and she’s definitely not Audrey.  But she’s looking at me like I’m a fucking unicorn or some shit, and she starts talking, and she could _hear us_ , Nate.  She could hear what was happening in the Barn, could hear me, you, Audrey, Agent Howard- she thought she was crazy, still kinda thinks she’s crazy, but she’s not, she can’t be, because we’re _real_ , you know?”

The water cut off, and Nathan pulled the bathroom door all the way open, and Duke looked up- he couldn’t help it, okay- and Nathan was dripping wet, a towel wrapped around his waist, and he would appreciate that sight so much more if he weren’t right.  Nathan was _covered_ in bruises, layers of them, every color from livid red to sickly yellow, black and purple and blue and green, and it was awful.  He was _also_ far gaunter than he had any right to be, ribs emphasized, stomach hollow, and Duke wondered when the last time he’d eaten was.

“Nate,” he said, expression twisting, and he reached out, not thinking.  Nathan ducked away from his touch, taking the line of his ribs out of Duke’s reach.

“Never mind that,” Nathan said, impatient, as though Duke could _possibly_ look at that, see that, and put it aside.  As though it wasn’t _killing_ Duke to see how badly Nathan had abused himself in Audrey’s absence.  He _needed_ to find Audrey, needed her back to keep Nate in one piece.  “Tell me about Jennifer.  What did she know?  Can she tell us where Audrey is?”

“No.  Apparently, her doctors _also_ thought she was crazy, and she’s been taking anti-psychotics, she hasn’t heard anything since she started them.  But when she saw me on the news, she needed to actually, y’know, _see_ me.  She helped me break out, gave me a lift back up here.  I think she’s Troubled, she’s... She’s got some sort of connection to the Barn, and I told her we could help her.  That she could maybe find some answers.”

“Not a lot of those anywhere, lately,” Nathan said, and turned to the mirror, examining his beard and reaching for a razor.  Duke tried not to pay too close attention, tried not to stare at the multicolor mess of Nathan’s torso.

“Maybe not, but it was better than leaving her behind in Boston, letting her think she was crazy.  Anyway, I borrowed her phone, called the police station, and they said you weren’t working there any longer, but they couldn’t actually tell me where you _were_ , or even if- I saw Jordan _shoot_ you, Nate, in the back, _twice_ , and nobody at the goddamn station could tell me if you were okay.”  

Nathan paused, razor against his skin, and glanced in Duke’s direction.  His expression was even harder to read than usual, hidden behind shaving cream and bristles, but Duke thought he looked puzzled.

“You were worried?”

“...No _shit_ I was worried, Nathan, I thought- a few seconds, a few minutes, fine, I would have been back, I could have made sure you got to the hospital, could have made sure you were okay.  But I left you there, like that, and I thought...”

“Duke.”  Nathan’s voice was steady, if low.  Duke met his eyes, and it was harder than he’d thought it would be.  “You didn’t leave me there.  I asked you to go.  I _sent you_ into that Barn.”

“You don’t _send me_ anywhere, Nate,” Duke replied, lips twisting into something that wasn’t quite a smile.  “I made that choice.”  Because Nathan had _needed_ Audrey, and somewhere along the line, Duke had made a _career_ out of trying to make sure Nathan got what he needed.  It was usually self-punishing, and this was no different.  Chasing after Audrey so that Nathan wouldn’t lose her was exactly the worst kind of self-punishment.

“I should never have asked.”

“It wasn’t like I didn’t have my own reasons,” Duke said, though admittedly, they weren’t quite what Nathan would assume.  What Duke _wanted_ Nathan to assume.

“I’m sorry, Duke.  I’m sorry I couldn’t come up with a solution.  I know you love her too.”

Duke looked away, looked down, and tried not to give anything away.  It wasn’t easy; he was an expressive person, always had been.  He’d been told it was a terrible flaw in a crook.

“It wasn’t your fault, Nathan.  Audrey made her choice.”  As Nathan had made his.

“I should have found a way.”  Nathan finished shaving, rinsing his face and wiping it dry.  He stepped around- well, over, really- Duke, and scrounged around for clothing that could pass for clean, and Duke stood up, turning away.  Nathan dressed quickly, and threw a handful of things into a duffel bag.  “I should never have risked either of you the way I did.”

Duke didn’t know how to take that, didn’t know what to do with what sounded like genuine concern for his well-being from Nathan, so he did what he was good at.  Deflected.

“Your turn.  I told you what I know, now you tell me.  It’s been six goddamn _months_?  What the _hell_ has been going on?”


	4. Chapter 4

“After you went into the barn, it vanished.  Like... it was never there.  I made it back into town just as the last of the meteors was coming down, it was chaos.”  By which Nathan meant the ambulance he was in, but that was neither here nor there, and Duke seemed a little twitchy about Jordan shooting him.  He supposed he should have realized he would be- Duke had spent so long arguing, fiercely, that he was _not_ a killer, that he _would not_ be a killer, and he’d still put two bullets in Jordan without a second of hesitation.  Nathan thought he should probably not appreciate that, that it made him a hypocrite beyond easy description when he’d treated Duke like the worst sort of threat on the mere _idea_ that he might take to killing, but he could only work up a faint sense of guilt that did nothing to impact the gratitude.  Besides, Jordan was alive and well, last he checked, one death at least that wouldn’t be on Duke’s shoulders- though a thick weight of fear settled over him at the thought of how much worse Duke’s position would be with the Guard now.  One more way he’d fucked up, one more thing he’d done wrong.  Duke should never have been in that position.

Duke hissed a sigh.  “Dave thinks you shooting Howard disrupted the twenty seven year cycle, that’s why the Troubles didn’t go away like they were supposed to,” he said, without meeting Nathan’s eyes, and Nathan looked down, busied his hands with his duffel.   _That_ guilt was heavy, was real, was unmistakable.  Nathan didn’t flinch, because he’d carried it for months, he knew what he was responsible for, but it was a fresh level of unpleasant hearing it from Duke.

“The Guard found out what I did, they tried to kill me.  Part of me wanted to let ‘em.”  The admission was unintended, and too easy; he’d spent six months talking to Duke, talking to Audrey, when they weren’t there, and it was habit now to say things he never would have allowed to slip before.  It was a mistake, he knew it as soon as Duke crossed his arms defensively over his chest, but Nathan couldn’t help but stumble to the end of the thought.  “I was trying to _save_ Audrey, instead I thought I killed her, I thought I killed _you_.  Killed James.”  And the loss of them had shattered him, broken him in ways he’d never imagined he could be broken.  But then, he’d spent so damn long pushing Duke away that he’d never stopped to think about _why_ , that he’d never stopped to consider what he’d do if he actually _succeeded_.  He had known that losing Audrey was something he couldn’t cope with, but it had never even entered his mind that he couldn’t bear losing Duke, either.  Losing them both was... bad.

“...So what, that’s your excuse for having a six-month-long pity party?” Duke asked, and there was judgement in his voice, anger- Nathan hadn’t expected that.  Disdain, sure, but not anger.  “Letting people beat the crap outta you?”

“I needed money,” Nathan defended, off-balance.  “I couldn’t get a real job, I have to stay off the radar.  The Guard...  If they found me?  I’m dead.”  It wasn’t an overstatement.  It wasn’t anything but the truth.  And if he’d started to wonder if it wouldn’t be better if they _had_ caught up to him, that wasn’t something Duke needed to hear again.  But Duke was back, Duke was _alive_ , and that meant there still might be a chance to fix his mistakes.  Audrey had a way with the Troubles, was connected to them somehow; if they could just _find_ her, maybe they’d be able to find another way to stop them.  “You got out of the barn today, it might have spit her out as well.”

“Yeah, I’d like to believe that too, but how come no one’s heard from her, Nathan?”  The anger was still there, banked in Duke’s voice, and Nathan figured he deserved that.  He’d more than earned it- he was the one who’d put Audrey’s life in danger, Duke’s life in danger.  If they _couldn’t_ find her, if they’d both lost her, that was on him.  Maybe everything hadn’t been fine, maybe everything hadn’t been simple, but it wasn’t only his own shot at happiness he’d potentially destroyed.  But he had _hope_ now, there was a chance, and he wasn’t going to let Duke give up.

“The Barn sent you to Boston, it could have sent Audrey to Burma for all we know,” he said, trying to sound confident, trying to impart a sense of certainty.  “You said Jennifer could hear what happened in the barn, maybe she can help us narrow it down.  Can we trust her?”  Duke looked back over his shoulder as Jennifer drove up and stepped out of her car with a little wave.

“I dunno, I just met her,” Duke replied, but there was a slight softness in his voice, some little trace of affection or respect.  Not surprising, if she’d helped him out.  “But she trusted me when she didn’t have to, and I get the feeling that she needs us just as much as we need her.”  Nathan considered, but only for a moment.

“We take her back to Haven.”

“Whoa, ‘we’?” Duke twitched back, an expression of disbelief spelling itself out over his open features.  “Look, Nathan, I’m _used_ to people wanting me dead.  What are you going to do about the Guard?”  If Nathan didn’t know better, he’d have thought Duke sounded worried.  There was an edge in his voice, a tightness around his eyes that mirrored the way he’d looked earlier, inside, when he’d spotted the bruises.  When he’d reached out.  It was unsettling, new information Nathan wasn’t prepared to deal with just then, because Duke had no reason to care _what_ happened to Nathan.  Not after what Nathan had done, not after how Nathan had treated him.  Not after he’d risked Duke’s life.

“We’ll figure something out.”  Nathan had _work_ to do, he wasn’t going to give up until he’d fixed this.  He’d handle the Guard, somehow.  “I need my resources, gotta send APBs out, send hospitals descriptions...  She could be hurt, disoriented...”  Jennifer approached, all wide dark eyes and hopeful smile, and he was grateful for the distraction she provided, the chance to look away from Duke’s too-intense gaze, the accusation there that didn’t quite match up to the accusation he expected.

“Okay!  We got a full tank of gas and some snacks for the drive,” Jennifer interjected, rummaging through her shopping bag.  “I don’t know what you like, but everyone likes Slim Jims.”  She glanced between him and Duke like she was looking for approval, and Nathan was the last person in the world who ought to be offering anyone reassurance, so he took an awkward stab at normal.

“...I like Slim Jims.”  He must not have completely managed normal, because Jennifer’s gaze darted to Duke, a hint of a question in the curve of her lips, in the way they pulled to one side, but Duke gave her a look, and she seemed to relax.  Nathan wished he understood that particular trick, how Duke could just look at a person and make them feel secure.  He’d never understood it, but then, he’d known Duke a long time, and had known for most of that time just how dangerous Duke could be.

...Come to think of it, maybe that _was_ the trick.  Maybe there was something comforting about knowing that the most dangerous person nearby was in your corner.

Nathan could believe that.

“Duke, you drive, I need to talk to Jennifer.  You need to tell me everything you know about the Barn.”


	5. Chapter 5

That...  That had _sucked_.  Admittedly, Jordan being alive was... well, not nice, precisely, but there was some small part of Duke that was glad he hadn’t killed her.  Only a small part, because she’d _shot Nathan in the back_ , but still.  Duke didn’t want to be a killer.  He didn’t want it to be easy, the way firing at Jordan had been easy.  That she had lived made it a little easier to justify to himself how fast he’d been to pull the trigger when he saw Nathan start to fall.

Hearing Nathan throw his plan out there without a shred of fucking warning, however, that was crap.  Having to back him up because there were guns in his face, guns pointed at Nathan, that was very definitely not a thing he’d wanted to do.  Emphasizing the point, _twice_ , that Nathan was willing to give his life...  It had taken all of Duke’s skill to keep his expression somewhere in the realm of appropriate for the conversation.  Which, admittedly, had been openly hostile and decidedly uncomfortable, but he thought he’d managed not to give away the raw terror he felt hearing Nathan say that he and Audrey were going to end the Troubles.  He’d worried, when Nathan had asked Jennifer to repeat that part in the car, more than once, had worried that Nathan would see the same thing Duke had seen, that Nathan’s life might be the key- bad enough that he had.  Worse that he’d shared that information with the Guard, with _Jordan_.  With people who would see that as a reasonable trade.

As far as Duke was concerned, that would never be a reasonable trade.

And all that was _before_ the crazy tornado, which, not fun.  Really.  And then more pointing of guns, because Jordan was just a barrel of laughs that way, and he wasn’t entirely sure why she wanted _him_ relegated to a safe house- it wasn’t as though any of them had any reason to believe he’d be able to control Nathan, or even that he’d be useful as a hostage against Nathan’s good behavior.

Though it was possible that it was purely because Jordan hated his guts and still believed he was a threat.  Shooting her probably hadn’t helped convince her that he wasn’t the murdering type, really.

As Dwight headed back to his truck, Duke rounded on Nathan, the fear, the disbelief, the _anger_ at Nathan’s ploy showing.

“Hey.  Show’s over,” he said, stepping into Nathan’s space, challenge writ large in the set of his shoulders, because Nathan was being an _idiot_ , and with Audrey not there, it was clearly Duke’s job to point that out.  “Your plan isn’t really to let Audrey _kill you_.  I mean, you were just putting one over on the Guard, right?”  He was pretty sure his tone conveyed how much _not_ a question that was, how much the answer had better be _of course not_.

“No, that’s the plan,” Nathan replied, calm about it, giving Duke a look like he was surprised, or maybe perplexed, that Duke would have a problem with that.

“I’m not really up on, on what’s going on, but that is a bad plan,” Jennifer interjected, and Duke was, for a moment, fiercely grateful for her presence.  It was nice to have some backup, even if Jennifer wasn’t someone Nathan knew, wasn’t someone he was likely to listen to- at least Duke felt less like he was the crazy one.

“It’s the only way to stop the Troubles.  Everything that’s happening in this town is my fault,” Nathan replied, and everything about his posture, about his tone, told Duke that he _believed_ it.

“Audrey’s never going to go for this,” Duke said, and that was more for his own benefit than Nathan’s.  He had to cling to that idea, because otherwise he was going to do something stupid, and neither punching Nathan nor breaking down on him was likely to get Duke anywhere just then.

“Audrey was willing to walk into that barn and have her personality stripped away,” Nathan said, intense.  “To forget everyone she ever cared about.  Audrey was willing to _die_ to stop the Troubles.”

“Let’s just say you’re right,” Duke hissed back, clinging to the thought that it didn’t matter what Nathan said, Audrey had known about this option, had known it would be a _permanent_ fix, and had ignored it.  She hadn’t taken this path before, she wouldn’t take it again, and Duke had to hold on to that.  Audrey may have been willing to die, but she hadn't been willing to kill.  If there was anyone who could appreciate that distinction, Duke figured it was him.  “That means for the Troubles to end, you have to be Audrey’s true love.”  The words were bitter on his tongue, and he hated saying them.  Hated even acknowledging that possibility.  Was jealous in so many ways he didn’t bother trying to categorize them anymore.  But he had to face them.  Had to ask.  “Are you sure about that?”

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my entire life.”  Nathan turned away, turned his back, which was a small kindness; it meant he couldn’t see Duke’s expression, and Duke knew damn well he wasn’t hiding anything just then.  He couldn’t; he’d expected the words, known they were coming, and they still yanked the air right out of his lungs.

He’d thought he’d already experienced the worst that Nathan could do to him.  Thought that Nathan’s distrust, his judgement, his surety that Duke was just danger waiting for a place to happen, was the lowest he could go.

He’d been wrong.

 


	6. Chapter 6

It took Nathan longer than it should to realize that Duke was being quiet.  That it had been six months since the last time he’d seen Duke was no excuse; it had been nearly seven years that Duke was out of Haven, and Nathan had never forgotten his propensity for chatter.  It wasn’t to say Duke _couldn’t_ be quiet; he could spend hours on the water, or at the coast, just sitting in silence, but there was a quality to that silence, a stillness, that this silence was lacking.  Duke was practically vibrating in place, and with that level of barely-repressed energy, Duke should have been chattering like an irritated bluejay, but he hadn’t said a word since he’d sent Jennifer off to wait at the Gull.

Nathan considered waiting him out, but that was always a chancy proposition.  Duke could be stubborn at the most inconvenient times, and now that he’d _noticed_ the quiet, it was grating on his nerves.  He was still half-convinced that Duke wasn’t real, wasn’t actually there, that he’d blink and Duke would vanish.  Which was probably ridiculous, given that everyone else was reacting as though Duke was there, and it was highly unlikely that anyone would be humoring him if he had simply snapped and created a full-on delusion for himself, but it was Haven, and stranger things had happened.

Frequently.

“Whatever you’re not saying, you might as well just get it out there,” Nathan said, after another moment, turning a page in the folder Dwight had handed him.

“I don’t have anything to say,” Duke said, tone flat and controlled, and Nathan glanced up from his paperwork.  He was struck by the intensity of Duke’s stare, as seething and full of emotion as his voice wasn’t, and Nathan blinked, a thin trickle of unease crawling through his thoughts.  When was the last time he’d seen Duke look quite that tense?  He wasn’t sure, but it might have been- no, he was sure.  The last time he’d seen that particular expression, he’d been pointing a gun at Duke, and Duke had been staring at the freshly-inked tattoo on his arm.

Not one of Nathan’s better decisions, in retrospect, but he’d come to realize that he really didn’t make good decisions.

“You obviously do, or you wouldn’t be sitting there in silence,” Nathan said, which wouldn’t have made a lot of sense if he were talking to anyone else.

“Leave it alone, Nathan,” Duke replied, tone still deliberately flat.  “You don’t want to hear anything I have to say right now.”  Nathan was fairly sure there was threat implicit in those words, but really, what could Duke do to him that was worse than what he’d done to himself?  What he’d done to the town?

“Wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know,” Nathan said, taking a deliberately nonchalant tone of his own, trying to find the point of balance, the natural rhythm that had always just _been there_ between them, neatly picked out in half-hearted insults and faux boredom.

“Don’t,” Duke growled, standing up abruptly, and nearly knocking a handful of folders to the floor as he did.  “Don’t fucking play with me right now, Nathan, I am not in the mood.”  He took a few steps toward the door, as though he were actually going to _leave_ , and Nathan could hear his own breathing hitch, could hear his heart pounding in his ears as panic that he couldn’t feel rolled over him, and he half-stood, reaching out before he could think better of it.

“Duke!  Don’t, please, just-” the panic didn’t quite die down when Duke hesitated, when he turned a drawn brow and quirked lip in the direction of Nathan’s outstretched hand, but it faded enough for Nathan to choke out, “just talk to me.”

“Talk to you?”  Duke turned fully, arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrowed, lips turned up in a bitter-edged smile.  “Talk to you.  Like you talked to me, before announcing in front of a crowd that your grand plan was to fall on Audrey’s sword?”

“You’re mad... that I didn’t discuss that with you first?” Nathan tried, and he didn’t understand, he couldn’t make it fit in his mind why Duke should _care_ enough to be mad.  Duke stared at him, expression flickering almost too quickly to follow- shock, hurt, outrage- and settled on disbelief with a sharp burst of sound that wasn’t quite a laugh.

“No, Nathan, I am not- no, actually, I am.  I am mad that you didn’t discuss it with me first, so that I could tell you how _abysmally stupid_ that plan is!  So that I could _gag_ you to keep you from saying anything like that in front of the Guard, in front of Vince, in front of _Jordan_ of all people!”  Duke raked his hand through his hair, pulling it loose from its tie and leaving it a disheveled curtain around his face, and didn’t seem to notice.  “I am- Jesus, Nathan, are you out of your goddamn _mind!?_ ”

“What the hell do you want from me, Duke?” Nathan asked, off-balance and exhausted, weariness crashing down on him like the tide rolling in.  This, he’d forgotten, he’d forgotten how damn difficult it was to keep up with Duke sometimes, how hard it was to track his jumps and his moods.  “It’s the only right answer.  We get her back, we end the Troubles, and you get to have a normal life.  She gets to have a normal life.  Honestly, I think you’d appreciate the chance-”

“If you finish that sentence I swear to God I will break your nose,” Duke snapped, eyes blazing, and he was physically shaking now, enough that Nathan could see it, in his clenched fists and his too-tight shoulders.  “I will hit you hard enough that you will _feel_ it, Nate, do not even-” he broke off, and drew in a sharp breath.  “Do you really think I would be okay with that outcome?  Do you honestly think there is any way I would be okay with any outcome that results in you being dead?”

“You’ve killed, when it was necessary.  When it was the right thing to do, when it would save hundreds of lives,” Nathan argued, and Duke flinched back, but Nathan was lost in this conversation, genuinely and utterly.  “I’m not asking you to do that, I’m not asking you to do anything but get out of the way, and you get everything you want.  No more Trouble, no more threat from the Guard, you get Audrey back-”

“Everything I want?”  Duke laughed, and it was awful, it was hollow and dark and Nathan was the one to flinch back, now.  “Nate.  I have spent my whole damn life not getting what I want.  And this?  This is _not_ what I want.  This isn’t anywhere close to what I want.  This isn’t, was _never_ , about what I want!”

“Then what-”

“Do you really think I went after Audrey for me?”  The question was abrupt, and Nathan fell silent, which seemed to be what Duke was going for, because he kept talking after only a fraction of a pause, stepping forward, posture intent, gaze unavoidable and full of hot anger.  “You know, for a goddamn detective, you are really bad at piecing things together.  I didn’t go after Audrey for me, Nate.  I accepted her decision.  It sucked, and I hated it, it was killing me to watch her go, but it was her decision, and I respected that.  And I didn’t go after Audrey for _her_ , either- she wouldn’t have thanked me for interfering in her choice.  I went after her for _you_ , because _you_ couldn’t lose her.   _You_ couldn’t accept it.  And at the end of the day?  What I want?  What she wanted?  Took a backseat to what _you_ wanted.”

“ _Why?_ ” Nathan rasped, voice strangled in his throat, because he _didn’t understand_.  None of this made sense, none of what Duke was saying fit, and the wrenching sense of _missing something_ was too much.  And not just missing something _now_ , but having missed something, something important, for a very, very long time.  He felt like there was a revelation, just out of reach, a solution that would make everything fall neatly into place, but he just couldn’t see it.

“Really?” Duke asked, exasperation and disappointment and that disbelief again warring for control of his expression, and Nathan wondered, really wondered, when he’d learned what all those nuances looked like on Duke.  “You really do not get it?”

“I really don’t,” Nathan confessed, and he felt guilty for it, for failing to understand.  Guilty, and lost, and immensely frustrated at himself, at his own blindness.  At his inability to grasp what Duke obviously believed was shockingly simple.

“Because,” Duke said, and his voice was soft, low and sad and tired.  His shoulders folded in, the intensity and the energy and the movement that had filled him draining away in an instant, lost to a brittle smile that had just a hint too much curl to it to avoid looking like a self-deprecating sneer.  “Because it has always been about you, Nathan.”

There was a sound just outside the door, and Duke stepped away, mask falling into place over his features a second before the door to the office swung open.   Nathan hated Dwight, just then, hated him for interrupting- because that had been no real answer at all.


	7. Chapter 7

Duke had never been quite so grateful to see Dwight, and he was distinctly uncomfortable with the sensation, but he’d been on the verge of saying something he shouldn’t, something he couldn’t take back, and the interruption was... welcome.  He was an idiot; he never should have started down that line of conversation, he knew better.  He knew Nathan.  Knew that he wasn’t going to listen, not without reasons, not without explanations, and he should have walked away.  He should have given himself the space to come up with something, anything, that he could use- but the way Nathan had jumped, had reached out with a tremor in his voice...  Duke couldn’t walk away.  Not from that.

Which left him without a plan, and falling back on honesty, and that was never a good idea.  Not when the truth wasn’t good enough.  He didn’t have a grand tactical reason for why Nathan’s idea sucked.  He didn’t have the greater good in mind.  And Nathan, hypocrite that he was, would never accept so selfish a reason as Duke’s _feelings_ as grounds to reconsider.  Hell, Duke had every reason to think Nathan wouldn’t accept his feelings at all.  And he wasn’t ready for that fight.

He ignored the hard, searching look Nathan cast in his direction, pretending to focus on whatever the hell Dwight was saying.  It wasn’t easy, but he held the pose long enough that Dwight, at least, didn’t see anything amiss, and Duke fell into place as they headed out to Marion Caldwell’s home.  And it was weird, it was wrong, that no one so much as raised an eyebrow at him trailing along after the cops as though he belonged there.  Duke wasn’t a cop, Duke had never wanted to be a cop, but nobody questioned his right to follow along.  Nobody questioned why the chief of police and the town’s prodigal son were dragging a Crocker out to handle a Trouble.

He wasn’t sure if he was comfortable with the level of trust- or fear- that their silence implied.

The ride over was silent, Duke keeping his head down and his mouth shut while Dwight focused on the road and Nathan tried, and failed, to make eye contact with Duke in the rear-view mirror.  Duke didn’t have an argument, yet, and even if he’d managed to come up with one, he wasn’t having this conversation in front of witnesses.  Not even a vaguely sympathetic and reasonable one.  And once they arrived, Nathan was back in business mode, focused on the job as a storm swirled above them.

The cold was merciless.  Duke had, on more than one occasion, faced brutal cold; he’d plunged into icy water, faced down winter storms, he knew cold.  This, though, this was somehow worse.  Walking through the front door was like walking through a curtain of razorblades, the cold washing over his skin in an electric crawl of pain.  He took an involuntary breath, and his lungs burned with it, it choked and strangled even as it weighed him down.

“It’s gotta be t-twenty below zero in here,” Dwight bit out, teeth chattering, and Duke forced a breath.

“How did, uhm, Audrey talk Marion down the first time?” he asked, because they needed to get this done, needed to get it done quickly.  They weren’t dressed for this, any of them, and he knew how fast the cold could work.  He could feel it already, the creeping slowness that threatened to tangle his limbs.

“She showed Marion that her friend Conrad secretly loved her.  That they could be happy together,” Nathan answered.

“...Damnit.”  That wasn’t exactly something they could reproduce, if something had gone wrong, wasn’t the kind of solution they could use right now.  Duke fidgeted, trying to keep warm, trying to spot their Troubled woman, trying to come up with a plan before he suffered frostbite anywhere regrettable.  Nathan glanced back over his shoulder, assessing.

“You guys should get out of here before you freeze to death,” he said, as though that made any sense.

“Audrey’s the immune one,” Duke snapped, shaking, trying to rub some warmth back into his arms.  “This cold’s affecting you just as much as it is u-us.”

“Yeah, but I can’t feel it.  I’ll last longer.  Go.”  Nathan sounded sure, sounded resolute, and Duke let out a puff of air, trying to marshal his thoughts.  Trying to come up with an argument, because he was pretty sure Nathan wasn’t actually _right_ about that, but his thoughts were crawling along, his body crying out for reprieve.

“Look-”

“ _GO_.”  That was a command, an order.

“Five minutes,” Dwight said, and Duke had almost forgotten he was still there.  “Then we’re coming back.”  And it was a decision, an instruction- Duke didn’t like it, didn’t like that his compliance was implied.  Was assumed.  But Dwight was retreating, and Nathan was glaring, and he hesitated, tried to fight the cold and the glare both, rocking back and forth on his feet.  But the weight of it was too much, and he wouldn’t do anyone any good if he dropped, and if he went outside he could at least warm up enough that he could be mobile if he had to make a run back inside to get Nathan.

He didn’t like it- he hated it, and hated himself for doing it- but he followed Dwight back outside, into cold, stormy air that felt like balmy summer in comparison.  His skin twitched and tingled, and he stomped his feet and flexed his hands, trying to determine if anything was actually damaged.  He didn’t think it was, but he backed a little further away from the house and blew on his hands anyway, shaking.

“We don’t hear anything in five minutes, and we’ll go get him,” Dwight said, glancing at Duke, expression full of something Duke hoped to hell wasn’t understanding.

“Yeah,” he agreed, scowling, ducking his head down and trying to work the cold out of his joints.  “He can’t- he won’t know.  When it’s too much.  He won’t know when he needs to cut and run.”

“We’ll go get him,” Dwight repeated, and Duke hated that it was reassuring.  He started counting, silently, watching the windows for any sign of movement, any sign of activity, and tried not to think of the fulgurite, tried not to wonder if Marion could conjure lightning indoors.

He’d reached forty three seconds before a bolt came crashing down, dropping a tree and sending him, and Dwight, flying forward.  The Teagueses pulled up in their van as they got back to their feet, Vince half-jogging over.

“Marion, did you see her?” he called.

“No, as a matter of fact, we haven’t, but have a look around, I’m pretty sure she’s in there!”  Duke snarled back, having to shout to be heard over the howling of the wind.  The storm was getting worse, not better, and he was an idiot, they were _all_ idiots, because they’d left Nathan to talk her down, and maybe he’d be able to ignore the cold for longer, but he still had to actually _talk_ to her, and that was not something Nathan was particularly good at.

“The storm’s getting worse,” Dave pointed out, as though that wasn’t freaking obvious.

“And it’s blowing straight for the center of town,” Dwight added, and that was less obvious, but more ominous, and screw five minutes, seriously.  Duke wanted Nathan out of there _now_ , he wanted him where he could keep an eye on him, he wanted him away from that overwhelming, consuming cold.

“This is a terrible idea,” he said, grabbing Dwight’s elbow.  “Nathan might not be able to talk her down.”

“We don’t have a better plan,” Dwight pointed out, stumbling just to keep his feet against the wind.  “Give him time.”

“We-”

“He’s got four minutes left, Duke, let him have them,” Dwight ordered, adjusting so that he had a grip on Duke’s wrist, keeping him in place.  For a second, Duke was tempted to throw him off- it wasn’t a fair fight to start, but one good punch and Dwight would be bleeding, and then the advantage was all Duke’s- but Dwight shook him, just a bit, fixing him with that look again.  “Give him a chance, Duke.”  The moment stretched, valuable time burning away as Duke fought with himself, fought with the urge to pull away and solve this thing himself-

-his stomach turned over, and he dropped his gaze, and Dwight read that for the surrender it was, and let him go.  Duke turned away, taking three long steps before he turned back, pacing and cursing.  Duke couldn’t solve this himself without killing Marion.  He didn’t know her, wouldn’t stand any real chance of talking her down, and he knew right then?  He didn’t have the patience to try.  Not as worked up as he was, not as wrung out.

Nathan had better fucking solve things in the next three minutes, or Duke was going to make a decision none of them would be happy with.

At five minutes and five seconds, Duke turned back to Dwight, jaw clenched, hands curled into fists at his side, and tilted his head in the direction of the house.  Dwight hesitated, visibly steeling himself, and nodded-

-and the wind died.  The clouds began to break apart, and Duke froze, looked up, tried to make sense of the sudden silence.  Dwight looked cautiously relieved, held up a hand in a clear gesture of ‘ _wait_ ’, and Duke bristled at the presumption, but held his ground for another long, agonizingly long, ten seconds.

The door opened, and Nathan guided a pretty, tear-stained young woman out of the house, ice flaking off of his jacket, frost blooms painting his skin.  Duke nearly stumbled, relief a dangerously strong sensation, and he took a second to pull himself together as the Teagueses rushed forward to sweep Marion off... wherever.  He crossed to Nathan’s side, not comfortable with Vince being near Nathan, no matter what their arrangement was, but Vince walked away, kept pace with Dave and Marion, and Duke relaxed a little more.

“Whatever you did, it must have worked,” he said, hoping for an explanation.

“I learned from the best,” Nathan replied, voice thick, and Duke wasn’t sure if it was from the cold, or from the thought of Audrey.  Probably Audrey.  “Marion didn’t want to hurt anyone.”

“Yeah, well, they never do,” Duke said, before thinking of Jordan, gun in hand.  “Well, some of ‘em do.”

Dwight drifted over, and gave Nathan a serious, measuring look.

“Thank you,” he said, and reached into a pocket on his belt.  He pulled out a badge, and offered it to Nathan.  “The town will never accept you back as Chief, not the way you left things, but I convinced the Guard that I need you on the force...  And that it’s the best way for me to keep my eye on you.”

“Don’t want it,” Nathan said, shaking his head, and Duke frowned, confused.

“Nathan, look, what happened today,” Dwight said, exasperated, “I’ve been trying to hold this place together for six months, and I can’t do it any more.  When the Troubles didn’t go away, people lost hope.  We need you.”

“I have to find Audrey.”

“You did say that access to police resources was the whole reason you came back,” Duke pointed out.  What was the point, otherwise, of coming back here, letting the Guard have a shot at him?

“If you were _just_ a detective, you’d be under less scrutiny.  Maybe bending the rules here and there might be easier,”  Dwight added, looking disconcertingly earnest.

Nathan hesitated, and Duke was damn near ready to take the badge _himself_ , just to move things along...  But Nathan reached out, and accepted the badge.

“I’ll do what I can.  But it’s all just a band-aid until we find Audrey.”

And maybe it was, maybe none of it would mean anything, but Duke was more relieved than he wanted to show to see Nathan take up that symbol of responsibility once more.  Maybe it was just a band-aid, but having Nathan accept his job back was at least a step in the direction of Nathan taking his life back.  And Duke needed, _needed_ , Nathan to start thinking in terms of living, and not dying.

Maybe, just maybe, this would be a start.


	8. Chapter 8

Nathan went back to the station with Dwight and Duke, and Duke was still pointedly refusing to make eye contact, but Nathan knew better than to try and have any kind of conversation while Dwight was right there.  He motioned for Duke to wait in the office he and Parker had shared- which had remained untouched in their absence, and he assumed would now be his once more- while he talked over a few details with Dwight.  What he’d expected to be a few quick notes to wrap up the situation with Marion turned into a more general overview of what had been happening in his absence- trouble spots and Troubled spots alike.  By the time Nathan got out of Dwight’s office, a bleak sort of despair had settled over his thoughts, and he just wanted to collect Duke and get as far away from the damn police station as he could.

His office was empty.

Fear chased the bleakness away, the sharp pulse of panic that left his pulse racing in his ears sweeping over him in a rush on the heels of the thought that he had simply made it all up.  But the pile of folders Duke had nearly knocked over earlier were still askew, and there was a crumpled paper cup in the trash that hadn’t been there before, and Nathan could still find a faint, salt-spice scent in the air, so probably not a hallucination.  Which opened up a dozen other possible disasters, and wow, he’d gotten paranoid.  It was Duke; Duke hated the police station.  There was every chance he’d just left, under his own power, of his own will.  If he had, Nathan was going to have some choice words for him, but it was possible.  It was likely, even.

He reached for his phone before he remembered that he didn’t have one on him, and that even if he did, Duke didn’t.  Growling a curse, he headed back out into the bullpen, and Stan caught sight of him and waved him over.

“Nathan!  It’s good to see you back here, we’ve missed you these last few months,” Stan offered, and he sounded genuine.  Nathan tried for a smile, though he wasn’t sure if he managed it.

“Thanks, Stan.  Though I’m guessing that’s not exactly the popular opinion.”

“Look, whatever happened?  I’m sure you had good reason, and I _know_ you had good reason to leave.”  The words were plain, uncontrived, and Nathan had to look away, ashamed of himself.  He didn’t deserve that kind of faith.  Stan, however, seemed unconcerned, and added, “Oh!  Duke said to tell you that he was heading to the Gull.  Said he needed to check on Jennifer and make sure she’d been able to get something to eat.  I tried to tell him that she was fine, but he was kind of in a hurry.”

Relief left Nathan unsteady, but he made another attempt at a smile.  “Thanks, Stan.  When did he leave?”

“Not long after you went in with the Chief.  Do you want me to start trying to figure out how to get his paperwork sorted?  I mean, with the whole... legally dead thing, that’s gotta be a hell of a thing to deal with, and I’m sure Wade’ll be reasonable about things, but Duke’ll probably want his estate returned to his name, and-”

“Wait, Wade?” Nathan interrupted, and Stan nodded

“His brother?  Oh, right, you left just before Wade came into town.  Probate cleared on everything about a week after that, and Wade stuck around.  Kept the Gull open, and I think he’s staying out on the Rouge, actually.”

...Well that was a hell of a complication.  Nathan didn’t much like Wade, never had, and the idea of another Crocker in town...

“If you could see what you could find out about that paperwork, that would be extremely helpful.  You’re right, Duke is going to want his stuff back.  I’ll owe you a hell of a favor if you can get this sorted.  Thanks, Stan.”

“No problem, Nathan.  It’s good to have both of you back.”  Stan smiled, bright and genuine, and Nathan couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I’ll tell him you said that.  Thanks again- I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow, Detective.”  Stan went back to his paperwork, and Nathan headed for the door, immensely glad that he still had at least one friend among the uniformed officers.

The drive to the Gull wasn’t much of a challenge, but finding a place to park was- apparently business was doing fine under Wade’s management, which was... good.  Nathan was pretty sure Duke would have been pissed to come back and find that his restaurant had gone under.  It still took Nathan by surprise, sometimes, thinking about how quickly Duke had taken to the restaurant business, how much he seemed to genuinely enjoy having a place.  Also that he could apparently cook, that had been something of a shock.

It did make him wonder, occasionally, what else Duke had learned in the seven years he’d spent travelling the world on his own.  What else he’d missed, because he hadn’t considered how Duke might have changed.  Might have grown.

Distracted, dwelling on thoughts that he usually tried to ignore- and he was blaming that on Duke, and on the confusing, frustrating conversation they hadn’t finished earlier- Nathan didn’t think before he stepped into the restaurant.  It was the Gull, after all- Duke’s space, safe territory.  That comfort, that trust, was instinctive, had persisted even when he’d doubted Duke himself.

But it wasn’t Duke’s any longer, and silence moved out around him in a slow wave, followed by the sharp, hushed sound of too many whispers to actually be quiet.  Eyes fixed on him from every corner, some merely curious, a handful friendly, most decidedly not.  It was a blow, and it shouldn’t have been, he should have been prepared for it, should have expected it, but somehow he hadn’t.  Not here.

He almost turned around and walked right back out, almost retreated under the hostile stares of a hundred angry townsfolk, but movement in the back corner caught his eye, and he was far too wary to turn his back to a possible threat.

“Nate!”  Duke slipped out of the crowd to his right, appearing at his shoulder as though summoned.  He glared at a few of the most overt of the people glowering in Nathan’s direction, and slowly, the hushed whispers turned back into normal conversation.  Nathan didn’t realize Duke had taken his arm until his balance suddenly shifted, and he glanced down to find that he was being tugged firmly in the direction of a table in the corner.  Jennifer sat there, playing with the curly straw that decorated the huge glass in front of her, and beside her, looking a little shell-shocked, Wade Crocker was folding and unfolding a linen napkin.  Nathan let Duke pull him along, too relieved at having Duke back in his line of sight to be annoyed at being dragged around, and accepted the chair that Duke practically pushed him into, noting that it put him with his back to the corner and walls behind them.

It was a surprisingly thoughtful gesture, particularly as it left Duke to take a seat with his back to the door, something Nathan knew he hated.

“Thought you knew I wanted you to wait,” he said, when Duke collapsed back into his chair in an untidy sprawl.

“You know I don’t like cops,” Duke replied.  “Besides, I didn’t want to leave Jennifer on her own too long, and you were busy.  I didn’t figure you’d miss me.”

“I heard you fixed the tornado lady,” Jennifer interjected before Nathan could reply to that, fixing Nathan with a wide-eyed, earnest smile.  “Congratulations.  Do you have to do that a lot?”

“I... didn’t fix her, exactly.  Just helped her calm down and face what was causing her Trouble to erupt unpredictably.  And it’s- usually Audrey’s the one to... do that.  It’s her job, I’m usually just backup.”

Wade blinked, tuning into the conversation with a frown.

“Tornado lady?” he asked, and Duke jumped in, jaw tight.

“Reckless driver, you know cop-types, they need to have a codeword for everything.  But hey, Nate got her all sorted out, which-”

“Nate?”  Wade looked him over, frown deepening, and glanced back at Duke.  “Nathan Wuornos?”

“Yes.  Detective Nathan Wuornos, actually-”

“I thought you didn’t like cops,” Wade said, still frowning, before he apparently reconsidered and looked at Nathan again.  “No offense.”

“None taken,” Nathan replied, though he wasn’t actually sure he wasn’t a little offended.  And he was surprised that Duke was apparently trying to keep mention of the Troubles quiet- if Wade had been here for months, surely he’d have heard something by now.  Hell, in the wake of the Barn’s destruction, Nathan would have thought _someone_ would have clued in the new Crocker, if only to try and use him the way the Rev had expected to use Duke.

“Nate’s an exception to that particular rule,” Duke said, distracted, and Nathan blinked, caught off guard by the way he said it, simple and direct as though it wasn’t in question, as though it were the truth, and an unimportant, assumed truth at that.  As though it should be obvious, but it hadn’t exactly been obvious to Nathan- they hadn’t been _friends_ in a long time, not the way they had been when they were younger, and while Duke had definitely been an ally, had stood by him and Audrey in all sorts of insane situations, he’d been assuming that had more to do with Audrey than him.  “Anyway.  Wade, it’s- it’s good to see you, man, it really is, but I have some things I have to- to go handle.  Jennifer, you have the key?”

Jennifer held up a slim silver key on a gaudy keyring, and Duke managed a more relaxed smile for her.

“Good.  Audrey won’t mind you crashing in her apartment for now, and it’s more comfortable than the B&B down the road.  I’ll come by in the morning, and you have my number if you need anything?”

Jennifer nodded, tapping a slip of paper on the table in front of her, and gave Duke a bright, dazzling smile.  There was something decidedly _sweet_ about her, and it made Nathan uneasy.  He really was getting paranoid, if someone being genuinely nice was making him uncomfortable.  It wasn’t as if Jennifer was any sort of a threat to Duke, after all- Nathan had no reason to be suspicious.  She’d been nothing but helpful, nothing but honest, as far as he could tell.

She still made him decidedly uneasy.

“Good.  Great.  I’ll see you in the morning, then.  Nate?”  Duke motioned toward the door, and Nathan stood up, not entirely sure what Duke wanted from him, but he’d put up with a lot, right now, if it let him keep Duke in sight.

“You’re leaving?” Wade asked, looking genuinely concerned, and Duke nodded.

“Yeah, I’ve got- stuff,” Duke repeated, and it was awkward, graceless- not like Duke.

“Do you need me to give you a lift somewhere?  Tracy has this covered, I can help, if you need- I, I should figure out- put the couch together, or-”

“It’s fine,” Duke said, shifting awkwardly.  “I’ll crash at Nate’s place tonight, we can work out how we’re handling things with the Rouge tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?  I don’t want to put you out of your own home, it’s just-”

“Wade.  It’s fine.  We’ll figure it out tomorrow, I’ve got a place for tonight.  Seriously.  You’ve been taking care of my boat and my bar, I think I can be gracious enough not to throw you out without any warning.”

“...If you’re sure,” Wade said, and he stood up, moving forward to pull Duke into a hug.  Nathan glanced away, feeling like he was intruding on something private; Duke had always been very, very secretive about his familial ties, positive and negative.

“Look, Wade...” Duke said, in an undertone that was clearly meant to keep Nathan or Jennifer from overhearing, and it would probably have worked if Nathan’s ears weren’t as over-sensitive as the rest of his functioning senses.  As it was, he glanced away, but he couldn’t block out the rest of the sentence.  “Thanks.  For keeping the Gull open, for really taking care of it.”

“Hey.  When the lawyers got in touch with me...”  Wade hesitated, cleared his throat, and Nathan felt a little guilty.  Wade was actually choked up; maybe Nathan hadn’t exactly been giving him a fair shot, if he cared that much about a brother he never saw.  “When they told me about this place, I was...  I was impressed.  I hadn’t known you’d settled down, that you’d... built something.  I was proud of you, kid, and I was...  I wished I’d had the chance to tell you that.  It didn’t seem right, not to keep it going.  Your staff, they said you’d really cared about it, and I figured...”  He trailed off, and stepped back, hug and moment apparently over, and both Wade and Duke looked uncomfortable.  For all that Duke gave Nathan crap about his stoicism, it seemed like the Crocker boys weren’t any better at dealing with emotional situations than he was.

Nathan would have to find a way to tease Duke about that, at some point.  Without actually diminishing the value of what Wade had said.

“Right.  I’ll be here tomorrow.  Early.  Ish.  Night, Jennifer, night, Wade.”  Duke straightened his shoulders, pulling on a careless smile the way someone else would pull on a coat, a casual shield against the rough elements of the world, and he turned to Nathan, catching Nathan’s elbow again and pulling him toward the door.  Nathan followed after, returning a polite noise at Jennifer’s cheerful, “Bye, Nathan!” and Wade’s awkward nod, and he tried not to let on how completely exposed he felt with his back to the crowd.

“You drive,” Duke said, steering them to Nathan’s Bronco, and Nathan felt slightly less foolish about his blatant unease when Duke shot a wary glance over his shoulder.

“Where are we going?”  Nathan asked, taking out his keys, and Duke looked back over at him, fingers drumming over something in his pocket.

“What?”

“You want me to drive, you have to let me know where I’m driving to.”

“Your place,” Duke replied, before his expression flickered, a trace of unease, of discomfort- of uncertainty- showing for a moment.  “I mean.  If-”

“It’s fine,” Nathan said quickly.  He didn’t like that uncertainty, and he was glad that Duke was the one who had decided he was staying with Nathan, because it meant Nathan didn’t have to ask.  “I don’t mind.  Sounds like you need someplace to be, anyway.”

“Yeah, well.  Downsides of being legally dead,” Duke said, sounding a little bitter about that as he slid into the passenger seat.  Nathan got himself settled, and started in the direction of home before he replied.

“Stan’s working on sorting that out for you.”

“What?”

“The paperwork.  He’s looking into how to get it all cleared up, get you your life back.  He said he was glad to have you back in town.”  Nathan glanced sideways, and smiled, just a bit- Duke’s expression was priceless.  He looked completely baffled, halfway between suspicious and touched, and it wasn’t often that anyone managed to throw him that completely.

“Well, that’s...  That’s something,” he said, after a long pause, and Nathan chuckled.  Duke looked over at him, eyes wide, before he smiled, slow and small, but a smile nonetheless.  “Remind me to stop by the Rouge and pick him up a bottle of something good tomorrow.”

“Can do,” Nathan agreed, using the excuse of the drive to look away from that little smile.  He wasn’t sure what it meant, and- as with everything else, with Duke- it made him wary not to understand.

“Oh, hey- I grabbed a phone for you,” Duke said, pulling it out of his pocket and dropping it on the dash in easy reach.  “Figured you might need one.”

“You... bought me a phone?”

“I had a couple of pre-loaded ones in the office,” Duke corrected, shrugging.  “I’ve learned it’s a good idea to have extras.”

“...Thanks.”  Nathan grabbed the phone off the dash, and shoved it in his pocket.  He did need one, and knowing Duke, it would already have Duke’s new number programmed in, and probably the station, Dwight, and anyone else Duke thought Nathan might need to get in touch with.  

“Hey, not a problem.  I figure you’re going to have actual work to do tomorrow, and Jennifer and I can start working on tracking down Audrey, so it’d be helpful if we could, y’know, coordinate.  Call.”  Duke shifted, eyes going to the side window, and Nathan swallowed down the rush of fear at the idea of being trapped at the station while Duke was somewhere else.  The phone would help, being able to call and expect an answer would help, but it still left Nathan feeling stricken.

He used to be able to be alone.  He didn’t use to be this needy.

Of course, he didn’t use to know what it felt like to think everyone he cared about was dead, either.

“What did you mean, before?”  The question slipped out before Nathan could stop it, before he even knew he wanted to ask it.

“Don’t worry about it, Nate.  Just...  We’ll find Audrey, and we’ll figure something out.  Some way to stop all this.  Something other than human sacrifice.”  Duke didn’t look away from the window, and Nathan tried to study his expression in the reflection, but he couldn’t do that and pay attention to the road.

“It’s the best solution,” Nathan said, gently, wishing he could get Duke to see that.

“You’re an idiot,” Duke replied, voice just as soft as Nathan’s.

“Audrey will do what’s best for everyone,” Nathan returned, sure of that.

“You didn’t,” Duke answered, looking up, finally, staring at Nathan, shoulders tense, body curled in around his knees, propped up on the dash.  He looked _young_ , like that, looked like the ghost of his sixteen-year-old self, who’d never been able to sit in that seat with anything approaching dignity.  “And she won’t.  You couldn’t stand back and watch her go, and you think she’s gonna look at you and pull the trigger?  You’re an idiot.  And you’re a bigger idiot if you think I’m going to sit back and let it happen, even if you can convince her.”

“It’s _not your decision_ ,” Nathan snapped, anger boiling up.  Because if anyone had a chance of interfering, if anyone had a real chance of preventing them from ending the Troubles, it was Duke.  Duke had always had a knack for disrupting other people’s plans.

“It’s not yours, either,” Duke replied, voice still soft, a silky note of confidence slipping in.  “It’s Audrey’s.  And you may be sure of yourself, you may be sure of your ability to convince her...  But I’m not.”

“What the hell is your problem, Duke?” Nathan demanded, gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white.  He wished it was more satisfying, but half-strangling the wheel didn’t really let any of the pressure building up in his thoughts out.

“My problem is that you’re so damn willing to die for your cause that you’re not thinking!  And I don’t know if that’s guilt or just that you don’t know how to do anything but play the damn martyr, but I’m not okay with this!  And if you would get your head out of your ass, you’d realize that Audrey won’t be either!  You couldn’t let her go, Nathan, and you think there’s any chance, any chance at all, that -- if you’re right?  And you _are_ the love of her goddamn life? -- that she’s going to be willing to kill you?  And even if- _if_ \- you can convince her, and she does?  You think she’s going to have a life, after that?  You think she’s going to just... move on?”  Duke twisted in his seat, feet hitting the floor with a thump as he pushed himself upright, as he leaned in, crowding Nathan with no regard for the effect that might have on Nathan’s ability to, for example, steer the damn truck.

“Sit down, damnit,” Nathan said, leaning away and trying to keep his attention on the road.

“No.  You are going to listen, Nate, because I am really not looking forward to having this conversation a third time!”

“I’m trying to drive, here-”

“Then _pull over_ , for fuck’s sake!” Duke snapped, throwing himself back onto his side of the Bronco and crossing his arms, hands balled into fists.  Frustrated, angry- and it was unreal, how thoroughly Duke could rile him up, could get under his skin- Nathan pulled off to the side of the road, and put the Bronco in park.  They sat there, the low thrum of the engine the only sound, Nathan still strangling the wheel, Duke still _pouting_ in the corner, for a long, uncomfortable minute.

“Think, Nathan,” Duke started, finally, and Nathan cut him off sharply.

“I _am_ thinking, Duke, I’m thinking of everyone-”

“Everyone except Audrey,” Duke snapped back, and there was something there, something in his voice and his eyes that left Nathan sure that volumes were being left unsaid, that some crucial detail was being omitted.  “How did it feel, watching the Barn disappear?  How, exactly, did you feel, Nathan, when you thought you’d killed her?”

Nathan’s breath caught in his throat, and only escaped through a strangled, desperate sound.  His pulse raced, his heart thundering in his ears, and the steering wheel creaked under the force of his grip.  Duke shifted, leaning forward again, bracing one hand on the dash and the other on the back of the seat, crowding Nathan, very deliberately pushing into his space.

“That’s what you’re planning, here, you know.  That’s what you’re planning to do to Audrey.  That feeling, right there.  Only there won’t be any coming back, there won’t be any miracle, because this whole plan of yours is meant to end Haven’s miracles.  She won’t get a reprieve six months down the line.  She won’t even have that hope.”  The words were harsh, Duke’s voice low and rough and implacable.  Certain.   _Brutal_.

Nathan lashed out before he’d thought it through, shoving Duke back, struggling to concentrate through the sound of his pulse and the spacey hyper-focus of an adrenaline rush he couldn’t _feel_.  Duke, braced, only rocked in place, holding his ground.

“Don’t like that thought?” Duke jeered, still pushing, always pushing, and Nathan recognized that he needed to move, that either he got out of the car or they were going to end up throwing punches, and there wasn’t space for that, there really wasn’t.  He groped for the door handle, and he could see his hands shaking as he fumbled.  When he finally managed, he tried to slip out, met resistance-

-Duke had him by the collar, was holding him in place, and Nathan wrenched away with the sound of fabric tearing.  He stumbled out onto the side of the road, and he was heaving for breath, he was pretty sure, and he hated that he couldn’t feel it, that he was struggling and it felt exactly the same as if everything were perfectly fine.  He hated that he was denied even the satisfaction of the physical echoes of his own rage.

“You can’t run away from this, Nate,” Duke said, sliding out of the Bronco beside him, because he did not give up, he was tenacious and absolutely ruthless, dangerous in the worst ways when he thought he was right, and Nathan hated it, hated the way Duke could find every weak point, every sore spot, and drill down.  “You are planning to put Audrey right where you are now, and if that is the best you can come up with-”

The one benefit of not being able to feel, the one plus, was that he could hit, and keep hitting.  That he didn’t feel the sting when he tore his knuckles open in a wild punch that he didn’t bother trying to control.  Duke reeled back, and Nathan swung again, taking advantage of Duke being off-balance and unprepared-

-except that Duke wasn’t, was standing his ground and taking the hit without even seeming to notice, expression savage and eyes bright, luminous silver.  He caught Nathan’s wrist, and held, and Nathan knew he couldn’t pull away, wondered if he’d have broken bones when Duke let go.

“Next time,” Duke snarled, wiping his bloody lips with the back of his other hand, “maybe don’t hit so hard you make yourself bleed.  It won’t do you any favors.”  He took a long, shuddering breath, and the silver slowly faded; he sneered, and spat, because Nathan had done a pretty good job of splitting Duke’s lips along with his own knuckles, and Nathan flinched, the fight draining out of him.

“You done?” Duke asked, and Nathan nodded stiffly, angry still, but guilty and ashamed and afraid, now, too.  “Good, you’re going to break something if you keep that up, and it’s not going to change the situation any.”

“Duke-”

“Shut up, Nathan.”  Duke shifted his hold on Nathan’s wrist, examining his hand, and shook his head.  “Get back in the damn car, we need to get you cleaned up.”  Nathan hesitated, and Duke shoved him pointedly toward the door.  “Passenger seat, go, now, I’ll drive the rest of the way, you keep that elevated.”  When he didn’t move, Duke pushed harder, rocking Nathan and leaving him off balance, so that he either moved or fell over, and Nathan gave up.  At some point, he’d lost control of the situation, and his life, and he wasn’t even going to pretend to understand what Duke was thinking.

He got into his truck and scooted into the passenger seat.  Duke climbed in after him, adjusted the mirrors, and put the truck back in gear.

They made the rest of the drive in silence, and Nathan wasn’t sure if he was glad of that or not.


	9. Chapter 9

Nathan’s keys jangled in his hand as Duke stood on the dark porch and tried to get the damn door unlocked.  The house was quiet and dark, and the yard was sheltered by a handful of tall evergreens planted along the sidewalk- Duke was grateful for the privacy, for the shield they provided, as he fought with the simple task.  It would probably be easier if his hands weren’t shaking, if his muscles weren’t so tense that they hurt, if his head wasn’t pounding from the pressure of keeping his control through the rush of a blood high.

Also, if Nathan had ever bothered to install a damn motion-sensor light on his porch like any sane, reasonably-paranoid cop in a town where crazy fanatics frequently abducted people they didn’t like.

Nathan made an impatient noise, and reached for the keys, and Duke swatted his hand away, not willing to admit failure right now, because seriously, he really couldn’t handle fucking anything else up right now.  He could do this, it was a fucking door lock, he didn’t even _need_ keys-

-the door finally yielded, and Duke stepped carefully inside, one hand out to keep Nathan from following immediately.  Which, okay, it was Nathan’s house, so he was probably a little justified in the heavy sigh and eye-roll that Duke spotted as he turned to find a light switch, but Duke’s caution was totally rational.  Seriously, given their reception in town earlier, checking for angry members of the Guard was a completely reasonable precaution.  The light came on when he flipped the switch, so someone had been making sure the utilities bills got paid, that was good- a little unexpected, actually, but good- and the kitchen, at least, seemed undisturbed.  Relenting, he stepped out of the way to let Nathan in, ignoring the decidedly sarcastic “Thanks, really,” that Nathan directed at him.  He still didn’t trust himself to actually talk to Nathan again, not until the simmering, shivering mess of anger and disappointment had died down.

Nathan closed the door, and Duke watched to make sure he threw the deadbolt as well as locking the handle.  He grabbed Nathan by his collar- already torn, so really, where was the harm- when he started toward the kitchen sink, and instead dragged him down the hall toward the narrow, first-floor bathroom.

“I can handle this myself,” Nathan objected, and Duke didn’t dignify that with a response, just slammed the lid shut on the toilet and shoved and pushed until Nathan sat down.  He turned on the hot water in the sink and let it run, knowing it would take a damn geologic age to get warm after not having been run for months, and started opening cabinets, looking for towels, for antiseptic, for bandages.  Anything to keep his hands busy and his attention focused, so that he didn’t have to meet Nathan’s eyes.

He found a clean and relatively dust-free washcloth, a bowl, some gauze pads and bandages, and a bottle of rubbing alcohol, and checked the water temperature- middling warm, and that was fine.  He soaked the cloth, wrung it out, and filled the bowl, turning back to Nate.  He set the bowl on the lip of the tub, and knelt down in front of Nathan, taking his wrist carefully.  The skin was starting to bruise, the outline of Duke’s fingertips painted in red, and he gritted his teeth- he hadn’t wanted to add to Nathan’s already too-extensive collection of bruises.  At least he was pretty sure he hadn’t done more than bruise him- he was more worried about the damage Nathan had done to himself.

He wiped at the bloody mess of Nathan’s knuckles, trying to see what he was working with.  Most of the bleeding had stopped, which actually made things harder- he picked the bowl back up and guided Nate’s hand to the water.

“Soak that for a minute,” he instructed sharply.  “I need to be able to see.”

“It’s not that bad, Duke.  I can handle this,” Nathan said again, and Duke made the mistake of glaring up, meeting Nathan’s eyes.  He looked lost, confused and uncertain, and he flinched away from the eye contact, his gaze flicking down to Duke’s lips, expression twisting into something guilty and afraid.

“Yeah, no, I have seen you try to handle things, Nate, you’ll just wrap a bandage around it and pretend everything’s fine, and with your luck right now that’ll end in gangrene and someone, probably Audrey, will hold me responsible for it, and that is not something I want to deal with, so just _shut up_ and let me _fix this_ , alright?”  If his voice rose a bit, if he sounded just a little desperate, it was only because he was on the verge of shaking apart at the seams.  “ _Please_.  Just let me fix this.”

“It’s not your responsibility to fix my mistakes, Duke,” Nathan said, looking up with wide eyes.  Looking- alarmed, maybe, or remorseful.  Duke wasn’t quite sure, hadn’t ever seen that expression on Nathan before.

“Maybe it’s not, but that won’t stop me from trying,” Duke replied, and he pulled the bowl away, bringing the towel back up.  Carefully, with as much delicacy as he could manage, he cleaned the torn skin on Nathan’s hand- he didn’t have to be as careful as he was, Nathan wouldn’t know the difference, but he took his time, focused on the work.  It let him avoid trying to understand the look Nathan was giving him, and at least in this, he could be useful.

The damage wasn’t as bad as he’d thought, and bandaging it up would probably be adequate, at least for tonight.  He reached for the rubbing alcohol, and steadied the bowl under Nathan’s hand.

“Hold still, and be very glad you’re not going to feel this,” he instructed, pouring a generous measure over the back of Nathan’s hand, using one corner of the towel to wipe clear the ragged edges and be certain he’d flushed them out thoroughly.  Nathan didn’t flinch, of course; Duke _did_ , because he’d had to do this himself more than once, and he knew how much it fucking hurt.  When he was sure the wounds were clean, he pushed himself to his feet and dropped the bowl on the counter, finding another towel and grabbing the bandages.  He paused just long enough to shake out the start of pins and needles in one leg before taking up his previous position, knees protesting the hard tile.

He took Nathan’s hand, and patted it dry, taking particular care around the torn skin, and laid out two of the gauze pads before he started to wrap the bandage.  Nathan was surprisingly cooperative, holding his hand level and still as Duke smoothed the fabric down, tucked the edges in with precise care.  He glanced up when he was done, planning to say something, some admonition about keeping the bandage dry, about keeping it clean, something, but Nathan was staring at him like he’d never seen him before, and the words died in his throat.

Shaken, stung in a way he didn’t want to think too hard about by that... lack of recognition, Duke pushed himself to his feet and turned away, quickly cleaning up.  Nathan was still for a moment, still staring, and Duke kept his head down as he put things away.  When Nathan stood, he stepped forward, and Duke almost expected another blow, another fight.

Instead, Nathan just said, “Thanks,” his voice low and rough as he hovered just a little too close.  Duke shifted back, trying to reclaim some space, trying to reclaim some physical distance in lieu of the emotional distance he’d never been any good at, but Nathan reached out and caught his shoulder, holding him still with a grip that was just a bit too hard.

“...You’re welcome?” Duke tried, not sure what Nathan was waiting for, not sure what Nathan wanted, because Nathan was an unreadable pain in the ass sometimes, and Duke was too raw, too tired, to translate Nathan’s inscrutable language of varying eyebrow intensity just then.  He just wanted to get some goddamn sleep, at this point, to turn everything off for a few hours.

“You look like you need ice,” Nathan said, after a too-long moment, letting go of Duke’s shoulder to reach for his jaw instead, and Duke jerked back, because that was too much.  He couldn’t handle that level of concern right then, not from Nathan, not when he _wanted_ it as much as he did.  Not when it wouldn’t mean what he wanted it to mean.

“It’s fine.  I’ve had worse,” he said, trying not to feel guilty for retreating.  Which wasn’t easy, because Nathan was just standing there, reaching out and watching him with that confused, lost expression he’d seen too much of today.

Nathan was not playing fair, here.  And the worst part of it was that he didn’t even know.

“Just... Never mind that, okay?” he said, deliberately parroting what Nathan had said earlier, and that seemed to work, because Nathan backed up a step and let his hand fall.  He still looked lost, but Duke was pretty sure that at this point he could hand Nathan a goddamn map consisting of three lines and a simple statement and Nathan would still be lost, and quite frankly, that wasn’t Duke’s problem to solve.  Not tonight, not now.  “I’m fine.  I’m _tired_.  It’s been a long day.”  A very, very long day, given that it’d apparently been _six goddamn months_ since Duke had last gotten any sleep, and he’d gone into the Barn in the late afternoon and popped out in Boston at nine in the damn morning.  He was running on fumes, and never mind that it wasn’t actually that late.

“...Right,” Nathan said, and nodded at the door, giving ground.  Duke was a little surprised, because Nathan could usually be depended on to refuse to give so much as a goddamn inch- surprised, and grateful.  “Should get you set up for the night.”

“Yeah.” Duke managed a tight smile, which hurt more than he wanted to admit.  “Early morning tomorrow.”  

“Guest room okay?” Nathan asked, looking decidedly uncomfortable now.  Like playing host was the hardest thing he’d had to do today.

“Guest room’s fine,” Duke replied, and Nathan finally seemed to realize that he was blocking the doorway, turning abruptly and heading back into the hall.  Duke followed, though really, it may have been a while, but he still remembered where the guest room was, he didn’t exactly need a guide.

It hadn’t changed since the last time he’d crashed there, three nights before he’d put everything he owned on the Cape Rouge and sailed out of town with no intention of ever coming back.

He kind of wished it had.

“Sheets are in the closet,” Nathan started, and Duke rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the rush of memories.

“I know the drill, Nate, I can take it from here.  Go to bed, for God’s sake, I’m not the only one with somewhere to be in the morning, and you’re going to have to drop me back at the Gull before you head to the station.”  And seriously, as tired as Duke was, he couldn’t imagine Nathan didn’t need to rest just as badly.  He wondered, briefly, if _tired_ was on the list of things Nathan couldn’t actually feel, if he could run himself into exhaustion without realizing it- but it was probably more complicated than that.  And he really was too tired for another fight, so he kept the question to himself.

Nathan hesitated, hovering in the doorway as Duke headed for the closet to rummage for sheets, but finally nodded, just slightly.

“Right.  I’ll be up at six.”

“Fine, six, got it.  Good night, Nathan.”

“...Night.”  He turned to go, but turned back, expression conflicted.  “Hey, Duke?”

“...Yeah?”

“Thanks.  For coming back.”  The words sounded like they hurt, and maybe it wasn’t exactly what Duke wanted to hear, but it was more than he’d had any right to expect.

“Yeah, well,” Duke managed, voice thick.  “Somebody’s got to watch your back.”

Nathan hesitated another moment, looking like he wanted to say something else, but he just nodded, and disappeared back down the hall.

Duke went back to making the bed, and tried not to think it meant anything.


	10. Chapter 10

Nathan dropped onto his bed gracelessly, sending a cloud of dust spiraling up around him, and stared at the bandage wrapped around his hand.

He didn’t know what to think.

He had never in his life seen Duke behave like that.  He had never seen him that _gentle_ , that careful.  And he couldn’t think of a single moment he had hated his Trouble more than he did right now, because he wished like hell he’d been able to feel it.

Just _seeing_ it had been overwhelming.

Overwhelming, and wrenching.  Duke, who could feel, who did notice pain, and cold, kneeling on hard tiles in a house that probably hadn’t been heated in five months- Nathan had already been chewing on his guilt, and now he was choking on it.  Because Duke had patched him up, when he didn’t need to, had flinched over pain he wasn’t causing.  Had been careful and thorough and _gentle_ as he tended to the damage Nathan had done to himself, while he ignored the damage Nathan had done to _him_ in the same strike, and it had finally clicked, what he’d left out, in the truck.  That it wasn’t only Audrey that Nathan wasn’t thinking about.

Because for some reason, some reason Nathan couldn’t fathom because he sure as _hell_ hadn’t earned it, Duke cared.

About him.

Nathan had no idea what to do with that realization.  Other than feel five kinds of stupid, because how many times today had Duke tried to point that out?  Implicitly or explicitly?

Maybe he _had_ let himself get hit in the head too many times.

Unfortunately, it didn’t change anything.  They still didn’t have an alternative, and there was no way the Guard was going to sit back and be patient while they came up with one.  They had to find Audrey, and they had to end the Troubles, because people were dying, and that was still on him.

And that wasn’t a mistake Duke could fix for him, no matter what he might think of the situation.  No matter how hard he tried.

Never mind how strange it was that he wanted to try at all.

***

Duke had always been a light sleeper.  In his- mostly previous- line of work, he’d had to be, and it was a habit he’d never had any reason to break.  He’d been aware, distantly, of Nathan being very quiet for a time, before moving around- presumably getting ready for bed- waking, and then dozing, then waking, until Nathan finally settled.  He’d managed to drop into a more serious doze once Nathan went quiet, exhaustion working to push him off alert, difficult though that was when he wasn’t safely ensconced on the Rouge, behind metal doors with a gun in easy reach of pretty much anywhere.  He wasn’t sure how long it lasted, but he came awake suddenly and entirely, a crawling sense of unease moving up his spine.

A floorboard creaked in the front parlor.

Carefully, very, very carefully, Duke edged out of bed, doing his utmost to keep the mattress from making a sound.  He focused on listening, on picking out any tiny sound, even as he sidled along the wall toward the door, hoping that he was just being paranoid.

Another creak, this one much closer to the hallway, and worse, the faint shuffle of feet from the other bedroom, which meant Nathan was up, which meant Duke was definitely hearing something that shouldn’t be there.  He hoped Nathan had taken the time to pick up a gun, because Duke was sadly lacking, right then, and he should have gone back to the Rouge, should have insisted they stop long enough for him to at least arm up.  He shouldn’t have let Wade being around distract him, hell, he should have told Wade to stay at the Gull for the night and made Nathan stay on the Rouge, because it was a hell of a lot more defensible than a comfortable three-bedroom in suburbia, but those were things he should have thought about before now.

Now, he needed to pay attention.

He kept himself pressed against the bedroom wall, moving until he was next to the door, risking a quick glance into the hall.  Nothing, no movement, no sign of Nathan or whoever else was moving around; he ghosted out into the hall, heading toward the other bedroom.  There was a bend in the hallway, before it opened up into the sitting room- Duke paused at the corner, glancing down the next expanse of hallway, and spotted Nathan moving, gun in hand, toward the sitting room.  Duke slipped down the hall, and a low thud indicated that someone had probably run afoul of one of the low tables that made the sitting room a nightmare to navigate even when there was light.  Nathan jerked in that direction, attention focused tightly-

-which left him exposed to the flicker of movement in the dining room, barely visible from Duke’s position.  A flash of metal caught the weak moonlight coming in from the windows on the far wall, and Duke didn’t think, didn’t hesitate any more than he had when vicious death vines had been reaching for Audrey; he just moved, lunging forward as the sound of a gunshot tore the air.

***

There was someone moving around in the house.  Which maybe wouldn’t have been as alarming, if Nathan couldn’t still plainly hear Duke in the guest bedroom, and he was going to have to replace that box spring if he was going to have company, it hadn’t been a problem before, but it _squeaked_ and Nathan couldn’t help but hear it-

-which was really not the priority.  The sound of the footfalls in the parlor, that was the priority, because someone was moving around in his house, and if they were there with good intentions, they would probably have stopped to ring the bell.  He picked up his gun from the bedside table, and headed into the hall, cautious and focused, heard Duke moving- quietly, almost quietly enough that he couldn’t pick up on it, the man moved like a cat- and was far more reassured by that than he should be.

It was nice, knowing someone was watching his back.

He edged forward, until a decidedly louder thump brought his attention sharply forward, and he moved-

-and the world came apart, the hellishly loud blast of a gunshot combining with a complete loss of balance, the world spinning, twisting, and all he had, for a moment, was the heavy, overwhelming smell of blood.  He couldn’t hear anything, ears ringing with the after-effect of the gunshot, and he couldn’t _see_ , and he didn’t know why, and he tried to breathe and couldn’t.  Tried to move, and couldn’t.  Didn’t know which way was up, didn’t know where he was hit, but he had to be hit, with that much blood in the air, thick in his nose even as he tried to draw breath and met resistance.

He was _helpless_ , and panic rolled over his thoughts, and he needed to get oriented, _needed_ to figure out how he was positioned.  He turned his head, and something came into focus, a tiny patch of light, but it was _something_ , he could _see_ , and it took a second, but he picked out wood grain, and dust, and he was on the floor, face down, that was the wall, except- except he’d ended up back through the doorway, and if he’d just fallen...

He forced himself to move, to roll, despite the resistance, and his limbs were working, they were just impeded by something- he forced himself over, and saw dark hair and tan skin, and he understood.

He hadn’t fallen, he’d been pushed down, and Duke was still pinning him.  Nathan’s hand skidded on the floor as he tried to lever himself into a sitting position (because he needed to move, there was still a threat and he couldn’t hear anything except ringing) and he glanced down, past Duke’s bare shoulder, and there was blood under his hand.  He needed- he couldn’t move with Duke pinning him in place, and this was _not helpful_.  He tried to scoot back, pressing a hand to Duke’s shoulder, trying to get him to move, left a dark handprint as he managed to get himself into a position where he could at least bring his gun back up-

-the handprint lingered, didn’t sink in, and Nathan felt a very different sort of fear- low and loud and consuming, a rogue wave coming in and threatening to drown him- because that meant it wasn’t his blood.

_No_.

“Duke!”  He reached out, shook his shoulder, because he couldn’t take a damn pulse and he still couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t tell if he was breathing that way, and he needed a response, needed it _now_.  Duke didn’t react, didn’t move, and Nathan’s vision went grey, and he couldn’t hear it but he knew his pulse was leaping by the flickers at the edge of his view, and it didn’t matter what was happening in the other room, didn’t matter who was there, he needed both hands and he dropped his gun to the side, scrambling to turn Duke over, to try and find where he was hit.

Low on his side, just below his ribs.  Blood welled and ran, leaving stark black stripes down Duke’s side, which smeared garishly under Nathan’s hands as he reached out, pressed down, tried to figure out how much pressure to apply when he could only halfway judge what he was doing, and Duke twitched, gasped in a breath that Nathan could see, could almost hear, the edges of his hearing starting to come back.  Duke blinked up at him, looking confused.

“The _hell_ were you thinking!?” Nathan demanded, kind of glad he could barely hear his own words, because there was a desperation in them that he was going to hate later.  “Don’t move, damnit,” he added, when Duke tried to shift.

Duke mumbled something, but Nathan couldn’t make out more than the pained tone of voice, and he shook his head.

“Don’t talk either,” he ordered, and Duke managed to look annoyed, under the creeping pallor and obvious pain, and Nathan was painfully relieved to hear the distant echo of sirens, getting louder as his hearing slowly returned, and he didn’t know which neighbor had called in the gunshot, but he owed them- the phone Duke had given him was still on the bedside table, and it didn’t look like Duke had bothered to grab _his_ , either.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Duke slurred, and Nathan flinched to hear it.  “I am still better than a goddamn plan,” he added, with a horrible, weak laugh.

“What?” Nathan asked, and he shouldn’t, he should not be encouraging Duke to talk.

“Nothing.  Audrey’d get it,” Duke replied, and he hissed out a breath, clenching his teeth.

“What were you thinking, Duke?” Nathan asked again, angry and anguished.  “You know damn well I can-”

“Just because you can’t feel it when you get shot doesn’t mean it’s not going to _kill you_ one of these times,” Duke interrupted, because even bleeding out, he always had to push, always had to fight.  “And I’m not gonna watch.”  He paused, coughing, and that, that was not good, but the sirens were loud, now, red and blue light sweeping through the room from the windows that faced the street.

“And this is better?”

“Fuck, yes, it is,” Duke snapped, and the door burst open, uniformed officers sweeping in.

“Over here!” Nathan shouted.  “We need a bus, _now_!”

Dwight pushed past one of the uniformed officers, looking grim and angry as he dropped down next to Nathan.

“We’ve got one on the way, what happened?”

“Armed intruder,” Nathan started, and Duke interrupted, reaching up to grab Dwight’s sleeve to be sure he had his attention.

“Intruders.  Two of them.  One came in through the kitchen.  That’s the one who fired.”

“How bad?” Dwight asked, looking them both over.

“Bad enough,” Nathan snapped, because there was blood everywhere, too much blood, and it was a stupid damn question.

“Kinda with Nathan on that one,” Duke agreed, and he hissed again, expression twisting.  “Not feeling so hot, here.”

“Then stop talking and stay still,” Nathan demanded, and he glared at Dwight.  “How close is the damn bus?”

“Here,” Dwight answered, as the paramedics pushed their way in the front door, and then Nathan was being pushed back, out of the way, and a wrenching rush of anger caught him off-guard as Dwight pulled him back.  It was irrational, it wasn’t helpful in the slightest, but he still had to force down the urge to hit something.  “Are you hurt?”

“What?” Nathan looked at Dwight, confused.

“Are you hurt,” Dwight repeated, motioning, and Nathan looked down.  There was blood smeared across his side, probably more on his back, and his hands were soaked with it.  “Or is that all Crocker’s?”

“I don’t think I got hit,” Nathan replied, and Dwight nodded, but he was still frowning, still looking disturbed, and Nathan realized that he wasn’t looking at the blood- he hadn’t worn a shirt to bed, hadn’t figured it would matter, since Duke had already seen the bruises.  “I’m not hurt,” Nathan insisted, but Dwight didn’t look impressed.

“You going in with Duke?” he asked, motioning to where the paramedics were getting Duke onto a gurney, and Nathan took a step in that direction before he could stop himself, because _of course_ he was going with Duke-

“Good.  We’ll have you checked out while they’re taking care of him.”  Dwight ignored the glare Nathan leveled in his direction, looking around.  “I’ll find you some shoes and your phone, you go with them.  I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

It was too much trouble to argue, and the paramedics were headed out the door.  Nathan nodded, sharply, and rushed to catch up, needing to stay close.  Needing to know what was happening.

Needing Duke to be okay.


	11. Chapter 11

People were shouting, and it was very, very annoying.

Duke tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids felt like they were weighed down.  Distantly, a thought floated through his mind, coins and river crossings, but he couldn’t get a decent grip on it.  The yelling was distracting.  But probably important- shouting had rarely presaged anything but trouble heading his way at high speed, and well-honed reflexes were telling him to _pay attention_ , to be ready to run, to be ready to fight.

Which was hard, because he still couldn’t get his eyes open.

Something slammed nearby, and there was more shouting, a new voice- calmer, if louder- and he was maybe seventy percent sure it was a voice he trusted, underscored by a sharp female voice, and the shouting stopped.  That was... better, he thought, and wondered if it was safe to relax, wondered if he still needed to be ready to move.

Someone touched his hand, wrapped delicate fingers around it, and a familiar scent- cherries and vanilla- filtered through his consciousness, and he smiled, or he thought he smiled.

“Audrey.”

“...No,” the female voice responded, sounding apologetic.  “Sorry, just Jennifer.  Still.  I didn’t think you were awake, you’re not _supposed_ to be awake yet, but I guess you maybe heard the commotion outside, huh?  Dwight got them to stop fighting, though, and he got the hospital to let us stay, so you’re not alone.  He’s surprisingly concerned for a police chief, is that normal here?  I mean, does he do this for everyone?”

...Jennifer.  Recognition was slow, but when it set in, he was both disappointed, and kinda touched.  Not Audrey, but Audrey’s shampoo, which made sense, given that he’d told her to stay in Audrey’s apartment.

“Do... what?” he asked, because he’d only understood about half of what Jennifer was saying, and then, more importantly, “Who’s fighting?”

“Oh.  Um.  Wade and Nathan.  They... don’t seem to like each other much, do they?  But Wade got angry, because Nathan was hovering, and asking for information, and he’s not family, and then the hospital had to tell Wade that you’ve got Nathan listed in your file, and that was apparently kind of a shock to Wade, and there may have been some awkward questions about if you two were dating, which may have segued into some blame being thrown around about you getting shot, and anyway, it was a thing, but, y’know, Dwight fixed it.  Or at least got them to stop yelling, so, partial win, at least, and like- get involved.  He’s been here since you and Nathan were brought in, and I guess it’s maybe because Nathan’s a police officer too?  But he’s-”

The chatter was confusing, because Jennifer was talking quickly, and Duke was still having a little trouble thinking, but something jumped out at him, and he managed to force his eyes open, this time.

“Since _we_ were brought in?  Is he okay?”

Jennifer’s words trailed to a stop, her mouth curving into a decidedly adorable moue of confusion, brows drawn low, before her expression cleared.

“Nathan?  Oh, no, he’s fine- I mean, not fine, he’s got some cracked ribs that the doctors were _really mad_ about, there was a very impressive lecture out in the waiting room- but like, he didn’t get shot or anything, he rode in with you in the ambulance, and Dwight made him get looked over, that’s all.  Well, and he’s freaking out, but so was everybody else, so.”

“Why?”

“...Because you got shot?” Jennifer frowned at him again, and squeezed his hand.  “Like, kinda badly?  And we were all kinda a little worried that you might, I dunno, die?  And that- you don’t get to do that, seriously, you do not get to drag me to this crazy place and then die, that is not okay.”

“Sorry?” Duke offered, but he was confused, trying to puzzle out her words.  There were a lot of plurals there that didn’t make a lot of sense to him, and it was hard to think.  Probably, he was guessing, because of the painkillers he was guessing he was on, because right, he’d gotten shot.  But hey, he was awake, so it couldn’t have been that bad.  And upside, Nathan had _not_ gotten shot, so, win.

“You should be.  Don’t do it again.  Seriously, this has been a very stressful day for me, you should time your major hospitalizations better.”

Duke smiled, would have laughed but he was pretty sure that painkillers or not, that would have hurt, and Jennifer smiled back, and she was kinda radiant when she smiled.

“You are very, very pretty when you smile,” he said, because it seemed like the sort of thing that would be nice to point out.

“And you... are very drugged, and I am totally talking at you way too much, aren’t I?”  Jennifer gave his hand another squeeze, and stood up, and that... was not what Duke had been trying to achieve, it was nice to have company, even if she was talking a little too fast for him to process some of it.  “Anyway I actually didn’t plan to linger, Dwight just got them to agree we could come in and see you and I got dibs on going first because I wasn’t about to have a fistfight in a hospital hallway, and if you’re awake I should actually go because Nathan is _really_ worried.  And you should talk to him.”

...That was probably fair, even if the idea of Nathan being really worried about him was kind of laughable.  He should talk to him, at least, and find out what was going on.  Also maybe find out how long he was going to be stuck in the hospital, because it was occurring to him now that this was going to be very, very inconvenient.

And, honestly, he wanted to see for sure that Nathan was okay.

“Yeah, okay.  Send him in.  Thanks for coming to check on me.”

“You’re one of the only friends I’ve got in this town,” Jennifer replied, and Duke felt a sharp pang, because she sounded like Audrey, and god he wanted Audrey home and safe, wanted to hear the colorful lecture she’d have for him about this.  Wanted to see the little dimple that showed up when she was really concerned, but smiled anyway.  But he managed another smile for Jennifer, because not being Audrey was not her fault, wasn’t actually something he was holding against her.

“You need to pick better friends, you’re running with a rough crowd right now,” he teased, and she grinned at him.

“Yeah, well, maybe I’ll start hanging out with the cops, instead.  Don’t get shot again.”

“Traitor.  Go, shoo, send in the cranky cop on your way out.”

Jennifer laughed, and headed for the door, and Duke was pretty sure she was going to fit in just fine.  Audrey was going to like her, and Audrey could use a few more friends.

She slipped out, and a moment later, Nathan stepped inside, and Duke reconsidered the idea that Nathan being worried about him was laughable- Nathan looked pretty terrible, objectively speaking, pale and grim and it was really not funny at all.

“Hey,” he said, and motioned to the chair Jennifer had vacated, hoping Nathan would actually sit down, if only because he looked like he needed to.

“Hey,” Nathan replied, and he sounded about as rough as he looked.  He moved awkwardly, worse than usual, but he crossed the room and sat down, leaning forward as though he wanted to reach out, but wasn’t sure of his welcome.

“You okay?” Duke asked, because he wanted to hear it, and Nathan gave him a hard look.

“Pretty sure you should not be asking me that, right now.  You’re the one in the hospital bed.”

“Yeah, and?  Jennifer said you got chewed out by the doctors, so I ask again, you okay?”

“I’m okay,” Nathan replied, huffing out a sigh.  “Just some cracked ribs, nothing serious.  It was an over-reaction.”

“Pretty sure it wasn’t, but I’m not gonna win this one, so whatever.  What’s the situation?”

“...The situation?”

“Yeah, you know, people broke into your house, tried to kill you?  Remember?  Where are we on finding out who it was so we can make sure it doesn’t happen again?”

“‘We’ are not anywhere on that.  Dwight talked to Vince, and I’m not getting in the middle of it- and neither are you.  You are going to concentrate on recuperating.”

“Like hell I am,” Duke replied, scowling.  “Concentrate on recuperating, really?  What-”

“Duke.  Please.”  Nathan looked down, looked away.  “Please just, for once, listen.  This is not your job.  Your job, right now?  Is to stay put.”

“How bad was it?” Duke asked, because yeah, Nathan was actually shaken, and that was... unsettling.

“Bad enough,” Nathan said, but he seemed to realize that wasn’t going to be an acceptable answer.  “The bullet clipped your kidney.  You shouldn’t even be conscious right now, the doctors expected you to be out for hours yet.”

“Fuck, how long am I stuck here?” Duke asked, resigned, because even he knew that wasn’t something he could just brush off.

“A while.  Dunno, exactly.”  Nathan looked back up, and Duke reached out, putting a hand on Nathan’s forearm, making sure he could see it.

“Nate.  You have your guilt face on.  This isn’t your fault, you know that, right?”

“You almost died, Duke.  You haven’t been back a single damn day, and you almost died!  Because of me, because-”

“I almost died because somebody shot me, Nate, and I was there, you did not pull that trigger.”  Duke could see, though, that Nathan had made up his mind.  He wasn’t listening.  “If we want to play this game, we can, but I’m better at it than you are.  It’s my damn fault, if I had been thinking, at all, I would have asked Wade to stay at the Gull and hauled your ass back to the Rouge, where it’s a hell of a lot harder for anyone to get close enough to point guns at anybody.”

“Don’t think I’m not giving you your share of the blame, Duke, you should never have-”

“Jumped in front of a bullet?  Yeah, not one of my better plans, I know, but I could reach you, and I wasn’t sure I could reach them, so it was really not so much of a choice.  I told you, I’m not gonna sit back and watch you get killed.”

“I don’t want you to die for me, Duke.”  The words were stark, almost harsh, and Duke glared.

“I don’t want to die, at all,” he snapped, frustrated.  “That’s not what this is.”

“I need you to not take chances like that,” Nathan continued, as if Duke hadn’t spoken.  “I can’t-”

“This is not about what you _can_ or _can’t_ , damnit, I-”

“ _I can’t watch you die again, damnit!_ ”  The words weren’t shouted, but they may as well have been, and Duke fell silent.  He knew from long experience getting under Nathan’s skin what Nathan looked like when he was angry, when he was frustrated, when he was bitter- hell, he’d seen Nathan when he was flat out murderous; this, though, this was new.  This was fear, this was _pain_.  This was loss and guilt and desperation, and he’d never seen quite so much emotion from Nathan before.  Not even when Nathan was half out of his mind and tied to a bollard on the deck of the Rouge.

This was uncharted territory.

He waited, letting Nathan compose himself, letting him rein in some of that emotion, watching carefully, waiting for a cue, waiting for a signal to tell him which way to jump.

“I thought you were dead, Duke.  For six months.  I thought I had done that.  I thought I had killed you.”

“You didn’t.”

“You know how many times I heard that?  From you, or from her?  How many times I thought I saw one of you, thought I heard your voice, or her voice?” Nathan asked, staring at Duke like he could convey his meaning with will alone.  Duke had been aware that Nathan looked rough, had worried over the bruises and the too-visible ribs, but he hadn’t let himself think that all the way through, hadn’t let himself dwell on the idea of being _alone_ with that burden for months.  Nathan looked exhausted, looked broken- looked _haunted_.

Duke was at the end of a long _day_ without Audrey, and he was feeling it, had been worrying about Nathan’s health for a few _hours_.

The idea of this stretching on for _months_...

“I’m sorry.”  Duke tightened his grip on Nathan’s arm, dragging his fingers down until he could circle Nathan’s wrist, and holding on, making sure Nathan could see it, making sure the contact was visible.  “Nathan.  I am sorry that you went through that, and if I could change it, I would, but you _did not kill us_.  I don’t know where Audrey is, but we are going to find her, and she is going to be _fine_.”

“I kept expecting you to disappear.  I kept expecting to turn around, and find out that you weren’t there to start with.  When you left for the Gull, I thought...  I was sure, for a minute, that I’d made it all up.  And then you crashed, in the ambulance.  Your heart stopped.  And that was so much worse.  Because it was _real_ , and I couldn’t do anything but watch.”  Nathan was staring at their hands, and he reached out with his free hand, brushing his fingers over the back of Duke’s hand so lightly that Duke almost couldn’t feel it.  Someone had replaced Nathan’s bandage, and the edges were uneven, untidy.  Duke wanted to fix it, just to have something to do with his hands, a task to focus on.  Something to distract him from the choking weight of emotion that was pressing down on his chest.  “I couldn’t do anything but watch you die.  Again.  And it was my fault.  Again.  And I cannot do that again, Duke, I am barely holding on and if you-” his voice broke, and he shook his head.  “Please.  Just... please don’t make me watch that again.”

“Promise me we’ll work on a better plan,” Duke countered.  “Because I don’t need to see it to know I can’t handle it, Nate.  Promise me we’ll try to figure out something else.”

“I can’t promise that,” Nathan replied, frustration bleeding into the words.

“Then neither can I,” Duke said, quiet and clear.  “It’s very simple.  Either we both try to get through this alive and in one piece, or we don’t, but you don’t get to take the path of least resistance, here.”

“The path of least resistance?  Is that- _seriously_?  That’s what you think this is?”  Nathan asked, sounding outraged, and Duke did his best to look unimpressed, which would have been easier if he wasn’t starting to really feel the burn in his side.

“I think you’re looking for absolution in the wrong damn place,” he replied, letting just a hint of his own anger show.  Just a hint, though- he didn’t want to provoke Nathan, not when he was trapped in a hospital bed and would seriously regret having to chase Nathan down if he sent him running again.  “I don’t know what else to say, because you’re acting like you don’t _care_ if you live or die, like you’re _okay_ with this, and it scares the hell out of me.  But you don’t get to be cavalier with your life and demand that I do otherwise, because that is not going to happen!”

“Tell me this was not about proving a point,” Nathan asked, a note of pleading entering his tone.

“What- Jesus, Nathan, I did not get shot _on purpose_ , do you even hear yourself?”  Which was not fair, Duke could admit privately, given the ultimatum he’d just offered, it was probably not fair to accuse Nathan of sounding paranoid when Duke had just kind of implied what Nathan seemed to think he was implying.  Still, that stung, would probably cut a lot deeper when the drugs wore off and his thoughts actually cleared, because Nathan just... did not get it.  “I saw the gun, you didn’t, I reacted.  That’s all.  I would have _vastly_ prefered an outcome that involved neither one of us getting shot, you ass.”

“I don’t-”

The door opened, and Nathan broke off, turning sharply in his seat, and inadvertently pulling his hand free of Duke’s grip in the process, which Duke did not particularly appreciate.  The look he gave Dwight clearly conveyed that, given the faintly apologetic shrug Dwight offered in return.

“What?” Duke asked, and he could probably have been less rude about it, but fuck it, he was in the damn hospital, he’d been shot, he was allowed to be cranky.

“Vince is here,” Dwight replied, and Nathan was on his feet in an instant, expression bleak and angry, and Duke tried to sit up, which- bad idea, definitely a bad idea, that _hurt_.  He made a strangled sound as he dropped back down, and Nathan twisted, shifting to put a hand on Duke’s shoulder to keep him in place.

“Don’t _move_ , damnit,” Nathan said, and Dwight moved further into the room, pulling the door shut behind him.

“Easy, boys.  He’s not here to make trouble.”

“Are you kidding me?  Someone broke into Nathan’s _house_ and tried to _kill him_ , and you’re honestly telling me that the _guy in charge_ of the group that wants him dead is here to _not_ make trouble?” Duke tried to push himself up again, but Nathan’s grip was absolute, and he didn’t succeed in doing anything but flopping in place, which was honestly more embarrassing than helpful.

“Vince doesn’t want either of you dead, Duke-”

“Right,” Nathan interrupted, voice low and dangerous, “because he’s always been such a fan of Duke’s?  I don’t think so, and if-”

“Hey, this is not about me, Nate, this is-”

“Would you two please _shut up_?” Dwight asked, sounding as if he was on the edge of losing his patience with them both.  “As charming as this mutual defensiveness is, it’s honestly not necessary right now.  Vince is _here_ because he wants to make things right, because if the Guard was involved in this, it was against his direct orders.”

“And he cares about making things right with _us_ , why?” Duke asked, still decidedly unconvinced.  He didn’t trust Vince, didn’t trust the Guard, and he knew damn well they didn’t trust _him_.

“Why don’t you ask him that yourself, and hear what he has to say?  I’ll be just outside if it makes you feel any better- at least you won’t get shot again.”  Dwight looked entirely too pleased with what was a terrible damn joke, and Duke continued to glower, but Nathan frowned thoughtfully, and glanced down at Duke.

“We should probably find out what he wants,” he said, before his expression twisted into something dark and threatening, which was actually kind of a good look on Nathan, at least when it wasn’t being aimed at him.  “Find out what he thinks can make this _right_.”

There was a long pause, and it took Duke a minute to realize that both Nathan and Dwight were looking at him expectantly, and this whole people waiting for his input or seeming to give a crap about his opinion thing was starting to get decidedly uncomfortable, Duke did not know how to handle this, it was not the natural order of things and he was starting to wonder if there was a Trouble happening somehow.

But they were still _waiting_ , and Duke was tired and in pain and he seriously needed to ask somebody about getting some more painkillers, so he shrugged.

“Fine, whatever, we’ll listen.”

“Good.  I think you’ll like what he has to say.”  Dwight headed back to the door, and Nathan shifted, hand still on Duke’s shoulder, so that he was better blocking the line from the door to the bed.

“Can you please not do that?  It is very unsettling.”

“What?” Nathan glanced down, brow furrowed.  He looked genuinely puzzled, and Duke shook his head.

“Never mind.”  Duke rolled his eyes and shifted, just a bit- sitting up obviously wasn’t going to work, but he could manage a slightly less helpless lying down, at least.  He briefly considered being sure he could grab Nathan’s gun, just in case, but remembered Dwight was supposed to be standing out in the hall, and dropped that idea.

The door opened once more, and Vince stepped inside, and Duke wondered how they had ever fallen for the harmless-old-man routine- Vince walked like a soldier, and his expression was cool and collected, far more alert than he’d ever seemed to be when he was playing at being nothing more than a newsman.  He had his hands held loosely at his sides, and didn’t seem to be carrying, but that was only moderately reassuring to Duke.

Nathan’s hand tightened almost painfully on Duke’s shoulder, and Duke wondered if he’d done it on purpose, for Duke’s sake, or if it was unconscious, something he’d never even know he’d done.

“Nathan.  Duke.”  Vince gave them both a nod, and stopped well out of arm’s reach.

“Vince,” Nathan replied, just as clipped and cool, and Duke managed a devil-may-care grin.

“Nice of you to drop by, I am really feeling the love tonight.  Why are you here?”

“I wanted to assure you, the both of you, that what happened tonight was not on my orders, or with my knowledge.”

“Why, exactly, should we believe that?” Duke asked, letting the smile fall into something a little closer to a snarl.  “Other than your sterling history of open and honest communication, of course.”

“Believe it or not, Duke, but I don’t actually want either of you dead.  Certainly not like this.”  Some of the cool bearing slipped away, a trace of something that might have been genuine regret showing, but his words sent a flare of anger through Duke.

“No, of course not.  You _wouldn’t_ want Nathan dead yet, would you?  Not until you’ve got a proper altar to sacrifice him on-”

“ _Duke_ ,” Nathan interrupted, shooting him a quelling glare, and Vince scowled at him.

“I don’t much like it, but if that’s what it takes to protect this town, to see to it that the Troubles are ended, then it doesn’t matter if I like it or not,” he snapped.  “And I don’t like it, I watched Nathan- hell, the _both_ of you- grow up, and Garland was a friend, a good friend, God rest him, but I have a greater duty to this town and the people in it!”

“Dwight said you wanted to make things right,” Nathan said, and Duke was pretty sure the bruising grip was definitely intentional now, a clear and unmistakable ‘ _shut up now_ ’, so he clenched his teeth and swallowed his diatribe on exactly what Vince could do with his greater duty.  “Exactly how do you think you can make nearly killing one of my people _right_?”

“By getting him out of that hospital bed, and back on task,” Vince replied, and Duke blinked.  Nathan glanced down at him, and Duke could read the sudden spark of interest, the flicker of indecision there.

“...How, exactly?” Duke asked, because yes, that was definitely a thing that he wanted, he would like very much to get out of the hospital, but that sounded like the sort of offer that came with strings.

“One of my people has a... very unique gift.”

“A Trouble?” Nathan asked, immediately dubious, and Duke could kind of understand that.  While not all of the Troubles were inherently _bad_ , the dangerous ones by far outnumbered the helpful ones.

“Yes.  We’ve always been very careful to keep it quiet, _particularly_ around Crockers- the family is peaceful, they’ve never been the type to cause trouble, but you both know that doesn’t mean much to some folk.”  Duke could understand that- from what he’d seen in his father’s journal, toward the end, Simon had been killing whatever Troubled person crossed his path, regardless of how dangerous they were.  Offering up the knowledge of this Trouble, and the _help_ of one of the family...  It was a pretty substantial risk.

“And this Trouble can heal him?” Nathan asked, not quite keeping the hopeful edge out of his voice.

“He’ll be right as rain.  It’d be like nothing ever happened.”

“And this person, they’re willing to do this?  They’re not under duress or anything?” Duke asked, because it seemed like an important point, and he didn’t trust how Vince operated.

“I’m surprised to hear you ask that,” Vince said, pulling his shoulders back, eyes narrowing.

“You shouldn’t be,” Nathan said, glaring, and Duke almost couldn’t choke down a laugh at the irony.

“She’s willing.  It’s unwise to coerce a healer,” Vince yielded.  Duke closed his eyes, let the temptation roll through him, because he _wanted_ to be up and moving, wanted to be out of this bed- and he opened them again, set his jaw, and looked up at Nathan.

“You’re my medical proxy, how much information did you get, and how much did you tell Wade?”

“I didn’t give him much.  He’s pissed about that, by the way.  Also, why am I your medical proxy?”

“...Good, that’s...  That’s good.  Otherwise this wouldn’t work,” Duke said, ignoring Nathan’s question.  Seriously, who else was it going to be?

“You and I are going to have to have a conversation about that,” Nathan said, and Duke scowled.

“And won’t that be fun.”

“He isn’t the only person you’ll need to have that conversation with,” Vince said, and yeah, that was even less fun than the prospect of arguing with Nathan about Wade.  “We’ve been keeping a close eye on him, making sure he hasn’t stumbled onto any family secrets, but he can’t stay in Haven.  We’re already taking a calculated risk with you.”

“Look, I don’t want Wade involved in this crap any more than you do,” Duke replied, harsh.  “He’s a good guy, he doesn’t need to get caught up in... all of this.”

“He’s a danger, and that danger only increases the longer you’re here, interacting with the Troubled.”

“Haven’s not exactly his kinda town, I’m pretty sure I can get him to go home without much trouble.  Just- keep your people away from him.”  Duke didn’t have much in the way of family he liked, sure as hell didn’t have much in the way of family that liked _him_ , and Wade was a good person.  He didn’t need to know about the Troubles, or what kind of man their father had been.  Didn’t need to know what kind of man Duke really was, the responsibilities that had been thrust onto his shoulders.

“See that you do,” Vince said, and it was unmistakably a threat.  “Are we agreed, then?  I see to it that Duke gets back on his feet, and we resume our previous agreement?”  Vince switched his attention to Nathan, and Nathan nodded brusquely.

“Agreed.”

“Does she want me to be, I dunno, blindfolded or something?” Duke asked, because seriously, whatever the politics of the situation, he couldn’t imagine any Troubled person who’d managed to keep quiet and out of sight for this long would want him to know their face.  Vince gave him a long, considering look, and Duke shifted, uncomfortable.  “Look, if she’s gonna get me the hell out of here, the least I can do is make sure she feels safe.”

“I’ll ask her, but I don’t think that will be necessary,” Vince said, and turned back to the door.  “I’ll bring her in.”

“Seriously, why am I your medical proxy?” Nathan asked, once Vince had disappeared to the other side of the door.

“Really?  This is gonna be a thing?”

“It was a little bit of a surprise, and Wade was seriously pissed.”

“Nathan.  There were pretty much only three reasons I was gonna end up in this hospital- a job went wrong, a Trouble went wrong, or the Guard decided to get rid of me.  You think I trusted anybody else to be poking their nose into my business, in any of those situations?”  Duke looked away, and crossed his arms over his chest, knowing he looked defensive, but fuck it, he was seriously exhausted and his side _burned_.  “Besides, it’s not like anyone else was gonna care.  You’d at least show up to mock.”

“...Audrey’d show up, too, you know,” Nathan said, offering the words carefully.  He paused, and his lips curved up in a faint, almost invisible smile.  “She’d probably bring popcorn.”

Duke smiled back, and tried not to read too much into that smile.  He’d thought he’d seen a spark of normal Nathan back in the truck, too, and that hadn’t lasted, and hoping was only going to lead to disappointment.  And he understood, now, a little better- expecting Nathan to bounce back in a day or two was... kinda unreasonable.

There was a knock at the door, which was different, and it swung open to reveal Vince, guiding a short, plump pixie of a girl.  She had a round, sunny face, dark eyes, and the hint of dimples low on her cheeks, and her long black hair was tied up in a complicated looking braid.

Duke was pretty sure she worked at the greengrocer’s on Second Street, worked one of the registers, always blushed when he flirted his way through the checkout line with the occasional last-minute desperate purchase for the Gull.

He hoped to hell he’d never be far enough gone to hurt her.

“Hullo, Mr. Crocker, Detective Wuornos,” she greeted, smiling, and her dimples came out full force.  “I heard you two have had a rough night.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Duke replied, meeting her smile with one of his own.  “I heard you mean to make it a little better.”

“That’s what I’m here for, yes,” she said, and moved away from Vince’s side.  She motioned to the chair Nathan was still standing beside.  “May I sit down?”

Nathan shifted over, creating more room, and Duke nodded, and the girl- Marissa, that was her name, Duke did remember her- sat down carefully.

“So how does this work?” Duke asked, wanting to be sure this wasn’t going to be some sort of creepy, like, injury-transfer thing, like that old Star Trek episode, because he wanted out of the hospital, but not badly enough to pull something like that.

“I just need a few minutes to attune you back to your optimal state of wholeness,” Marissa said, and Duke blinked, because that was... unexpectedly New-Agey, for a Trouble.

“Okay,” he said, and he did his best not to fidget when she reached out, placing the fingertips of her right hand on his forehead, and the fingertips of her left hand just above his navel, and yeah, okay, a little more awkward than he’d expected.  Nathan shifted again, and Duke glanced up in time to catch what looked suspiciously like _amusement_ showing, and yeah, Duke wasn’t living this down anytime soon.

Which, he decided, as the pain began to recede, he was really okay with.

A little less than ten minutes later, and Marissa stood up, wobbling a little, but otherwise looking none the worse for wear.

“There.  All fixed.”

“Thank you, Marissa,” Duke said, putting as much genuine gratitude into the words as he could, and she blushed and shrugged.

“I’m glad I could help.  Just... please don’t tell anyone?  It takes a lot of effort, and if I do it too often, I get really sick, and I don’t...  People won’t understand why I can’t help everyone.”

“We won’t say a word,” Nathan said quietly, and Duke nodded his agreement.  “Promise.  Your secret is safe with us.”

Marissa gave them one more tired smile, and headed for the door.  Vince didn’t follow her, waiting until she had closed the door behind her to address them.

“I hope to see both of you doing everything you can to find Audrey, and quickly,” he said, and Duke glared, but Nathan just nodded.  “Good, then.”  He turned to go, and Duke sat up.

“Hey, Vince?”

Vince paused, and turned back.

“Thanks for this.  I appreciate it, I do.  But your deal is with Nathan, not with me.  Don’t forget that.”  Nathan gave him a sharp look, which Duke ignored; Vince’s eyes narrowed, and Duke continued before he could say anything.  “You tell your people, you make them hear this- anybody else comes after Nathan, anybody else tries this shit?  I will come after them.  And I will be playing for keeps."

“I’ll pass that along.”  Vince smiled, and it was not a pleasant smile, but there was amusement, and maybe even a hint of respect in it.  “You two do your job, and I’ll do mine.  Goodnight, boys.”

He turned to leave, and they let him go, Nathan looking annoyed, Duke just glad that he was gone.

“Do I get a say in this?” Nathan asked, and Duke gave him a sharp-edged smile.

“Not a chance in hell.  Make yourself useful, find me some goddamn pants so I can get out of here.”


	12. Chapter 12

It took a little doing, but Nathan managed to scrounge up a set of scrubs that would at least passibly fit Duke.  He headed back to the room, nodding to Dwight and Jennifer, who were sitting nearby.  Dwight was listening attentively as Jennifer spoke, accenting her words with rapid, fluttering movements of her hands.  That they were calm and present was about the only reason he didn’t have to deal with more than a moment of panic when he realized the door was ajar.  The harsh edge of a voice kept deliberately low was initially just as worrying, but he recognized it before he did anything impulsive and regrettable- Wade.

He should probably have guessed that Wade would want to talk to Duke, or that Duke would want to talk to Wade, and he hesitated, not sure if he should head inside with the clothes Duke had requested, or wait and let them talk.

“You’re out of your mind,” Wade said, and Nathan paused, hand upraised to knock.

“It’s fine, Wade.  Seriously.  I am completely okay, it was just a graze, I will be out of here as soon as someone brings me some damn pants.”

“A _graze_ doesn’t keep you in surgery for three and a half hours, Duke!  I’m not an idiot, whatever your cop boyfriend seems to think-”

“Whoa, okay, back that up a few steps, what-”

“Nathan Wuornos, Duke, really?  You think I don’t remember that name?  You think I don’t remember that you spent the better part of three months drunk off your ass that first summer-”

“That was _twelve years ago_ ,” Duke hissed, and Nathan was pretty sure he should _not_ just stand there and listen, but he was frozen, absolutely paralyzed, his attention locked on the barely-audible discussion.  And he wanted, urgently, to hear the end of that thought, to find out just what it was Wade was implying about the summer Duke had left Haven.

“-and I should have known something was up when you just happened to _have a place for the night_ , you slept on that damn boat the whole time you were around, wouldn’t accept a guest room or a hotel room or-”

“Well _fuck me_ for trying to be reasonable and not throwing you out!”

“-the hell are you doing with this guy, Duke?  You think I didn’t try to find out what happened to you?  And all anyone in this fucking town would say was that Wuornos had signed the paperwork, but he wasn’t working in Haven anymore, that the official report was sealed, and you come rolling up after _six months_ with the guy, _alive_ , and six _hours_ later you’re in the hospital?”

“Wade-” Nathan knew that tone, knew Duke was floundering- he hadn’t heard it often, it was hard to put Duke in a corner, but it was very distinct, and right now?  More than a little dangerous.

“Look, is it- is it drugs?  Is it trafficking?  You get in over your head and and he turned a blind eye in exchange for carte blanche?”

“I don’t know what the _hell_ you’re implying, but you are so far off the right track that you’re on a different damn _map_ ,” Duke snapped.

“Are they threatening you?”

“ _What_?”

“I mean, I’ve been sitting here for the last _five hours_ trying to figure out why exactly the chief of police is camped outside your door, why the hospital won’t tell me a damn thing but they’ll talk to Wuornos, why _random people off the street_ have been able to come in and see you and I haven’t- what do they have on you?”

“The hospital wouldn’t tell you anything because Nate’s my medical proxy, because he’s _been_ my medical proxy for _years_ and that has nothing to do with whatever paranoid theories you’ve come up with tonight!  I listed him because he’s my _friend_ , Wade, and he _lives here_ , and I could be reasonably sure he’d actually _have my back_ if I needed him, and you know _damn well_ that there aren’t a lot of people I can say that about!”

“And what definition of having your back includes leaving bruises, exactly?” Wade asked caustically, and Nathan tensed, confused.

“What-”

“Your shoulder?”

“...Christ, that?  That’s nothing, it’s-”

“He-”

“Damnit, Wade, he has a _nerve condition_ , he can’t always figure out his grip strength, and he was being a goddamn mother hen _like certain other people I could mention_ , he was trying to keep me from sitting up because he was afraid I’d _hurt myself_ , which is ridiculous because _it’s just a damn graze, I’m fine_!”

“Right, sure, so let’s pretend I believe that and you jump to the part where you’re justifying getting hit in the face, because you sure as hell didn’t have that split lip when you left the Gull, and if you don’t think I can’t put that together with the fact that your ‘ _friend_ ’ out there mysteriously injured his hand in that same span of time-”

“Would you please just _drop it_?” Duke asked, and he sounded exhausted.  “Just... drop it, Wade.  I’m _fine_ , I do not need help, I’m not a damn kid anymore, I don’t need rescuing.  Nobody is _threatening_ me, nobody has anything on me, Dwight is probably here because someone took a shot at one of his officers, and Nate is here because I _want him here_ , and I get that this is kind of confusing, and that I can’t give you an explanation that makes sense-”

“For the three and a half hour surgery for a ‘graze’, the fact that you took off to overnight with somebody who’s hitting you, or for the _six months_ that you were supposedly _dead_?” Wade asked, and this... this was a problem.  This was a serious problem, because there was no explanation Duke could give for any of that- and laid out that way, in those tones, Nathan could see exactly how it looked.  Could understand why Wade would assume the absolute worst that he could imagine.  And if their positions were reversed?  Nathan sure as hell wouldn’t be comfortable with Wade anywhere near Duke.  ...Particularly as Nathan couldn’t even argue the point; he _had_ hit Duke, he had apparently left bruises, he _was_ the reason Duke had gotten shot, and the reason he’d been... gone... for as long as he had been.

“Look, Wade- I am begging you, here.  Just _drop this_.  Haven is not the kind of town you want to walk into and start asking questions.  Go home.  Go back to the city, go back to the _gorgeous woman_ who is way out of your league and who married you anyway, forget this fucking place and everything in it.”

“Yeah, we’re kinda separated right now, she was having an affair, it kind of put a strain on the relationship.”

“...Fuck, Wade, I’m sorry.  I didn’t-”

“Of course you didn’t know, you’ve been kind of out of touch.  But while we’re on the subject of beautiful women who are way out of our league, why, exactly, did _I_ get the call from the lawyers?  Where’s Evi, Duke?”

“... Evi died.  A few- last year.  She was killed.”  The pain in Duke’s voice was just as real, just as raw, as it had been that night, and Nathan hurt to hear it, no matter how conflicted he’d been about Evi herself.  And he was uncomfortably aware that he _didn’t like_ that Wade had known Evi, knew her well enough to ask about her and wonder where she was, when Duke had never so much as _mentioned_ her to him before she arrived in town.

“I’m sorry to hear that.  I liked Evi, you know I did.  What happened?”

“She showed up in Haven and started asking questions, and it got her killed.”  There was a heavy pause, weighted and thick, and Duke continued.  “I’m not kidding, Wade, you _need_ to drop this.  This town will eat you alive if you don’t, and I don’t have enough family that I can stand to see any more of it die here.”

“You say something like that and expect me to just _walk away_?  You’re my _brother_ , damnit, and if you’re in that kind of trouble-”

“You have no idea,” Duke said, and Nathan had never heard Duke use that tone before, dark and flat and unbearably  heavy, “the kind of trouble I’m in.  But this is my place, my town.  Nate and Dwight?  Are good guys, and they are doing the best they can here.   _I’m_ doing the best I can here.  But the thing we’ve got in common?  We’re in way too damn deep to leave.  You aren’t.  Go _home_ , Wade.  Go home before I have to bury you, too.”

“You’re out of your fucking mind if you think that’s going to happen.”

“ _I can’t protect you if you stay here._ ”

“I’m not asking you to _protect me_!”

“Yeah, no one ever is, and yet!”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Never mind.”

“What happened tonight, Duke?  Just- tell me, honestly, what happened, and I’ll drop it.”

“You sure you want the answer to that?”

“Yes.”

“Fine.  Someone- two someones, more specifically- broke into Nate’s place, because he doesn’t exactly have an abundance of friends in this town right now.  One of them drew attention, the other one made to take a shot, I could see them and he couldn’t.  I knocked him down to get him out of the way, and got clipped.  That is literally what happened, one hundred percent.”

“And the rest?”

“Nate smacked his hand into a post on the porch, that happens sometimes, he doesn’t always know where his limbs are, it’s a thing.  I probably took an elbow when I tackled him, I wasn’t really paying attention at that point because I was _shot_ , and let me tell you, graze or not that shit hurts.  The bruises are, as I said, because I was trying to sit up and Nate didn’t want me pulling my stitches.  That is it.  That is what happened.  Nate is here because he’s worried.  Dwight is here because someone _tried to shoot one of his officers_.  Vince was here because he works for the newspaper, and this is a small damn town where nothing stays quiet for more than five minutes.  That is what happened tonight.”

“You used to be a better liar.”

“I resent that, I am an excellent liar, ask anyone.  I lie so damn well that no one ever believes me when I’m _telling them the damn truth_.”

“I’m just trying to look out for you-”

“I don’t need anyone to _look out for me_ ,” Duke said, and there was malice in those words.  “I learned a long time ago that wasn’t going to happen, I learned to look out for myself.  I don’t need you to sweep in now and start acting like you give a damn what happens to me, Wade.  You sure as hell never did before, and I’m not a kid anymore.  I watch my own back.”

“Don’t.  Don’t _do_ that, Duke, don’t pretend that because I wasn’t old enough to take you in myself after Dad died that I didn’t _care_ , that because I couldn’t convince my mother to get you out of this fucking town-”

“I took care of myself, Wade.  I _survived_.  I’m good at that.  I’m _better_ at it when I don’t have to worry about people who’ve been sheltered their whole lives stepping in where they don’t belong!”

“You really are out of your mind.”

“Maybe I am, but you are _definitely_ out of your depth.”

“I’m not leaving you here on your own.  Dad did that, your mom-”

“Not another fucking word, Wade!”

“...Fine.  I won’t go there.  But I’m not. Leaving. You. Alone.”

“ _I’m not alone_.”

“You say that, but you don’t believe it.”

“Aren’t you the one who was complaining about the line to get in and check on me?”

“Uh, Nathan?”  Nathan jerked, and turned, and Dwight and Jennifer were both staring, looking concerned.  “Everything okay?”

...Nathan was pretty sure he blushed, guilt and embarrassment sweeping over him.  He’d forgotten they were even there, he’d been so intent on his eavesdropping, and that was just...  He wanted to excuse it, wanted to pretend that it was just that he was tired, and stressed, and _worried_ , but that _wasn’t_ an excuse.

“Yeah, just- just figured they could use a few minutes,” he lied, and Dwight gave him a reproving look that said he didn’t believe that for a second, but didn’t say anything further.  Hoping like hell he didn’t look as guilty as he felt, he turned back to the door and knocked hard on the frame, waiting until Duke yelled, “ _What_?” to let himself in.

“Clothes, as requested,” he said, holding up the bundle of pale-blue cloth like a shield.  “Paperwork’s in order, you’re clear to leave.”  Clearly, a nurse had come through while Nathan had been searching for clothes, because the various lines and tubes were no longer connected, and Duke was sitting on the edge of the bed, looking decidedly impatient.

“Finally, what’d you have to do, break into a locker?” Duke asked, trying- and failing- to hide his stress behind a taunting smile.

“It’s not breaking in when I do it,” Nathan replied, deadpan, trying- and he hoped, succeeding better than Duke- to pretend he hadn’t heard any of what they’d been saying.  “Perks of the badge.”

“Don’t let Dwight hear you say that,” Duke warned, and Wade looked furious, looked _dangerous_ , and for the first time, Nathan could really see a resemblance between the brothers.  Could see how much they looked like their father.

He didn’t like the comparison.

“Pretty sure Dwight would sign off on it this time if it means we get to go home before he’s supposed to be back on shift.”  Nathan handed Duke the scrubs, and tried not to react to the glare Wade was aiming at him.  “‘Course, I’m not exactly sure where we’re going, my place being a crime scene, and all.”

“ _We_ are going back to the Rouge,” Duke said firmly, directing a sharp look at Wade.  “Wade has kindly agreed to move his things to the room behind the office in the Gull.”

“...Right,” Wade said, filling the word with so much distaste that it was impossible to ignore it.  Nathan shifted uncomfortably, trying to come up with an appropriate response, something that wouldn’t require admitting that he’d heard a large part of their conversation, and finally settled on a quizzical tilt of his head.  Not too quizzical, after their earlier altercation- Wade had made some fairly vicious comments when Nathan had refused to give him more than the barest amount of information possible- but enough to imply that he wasn’t quite sure what that particular tone was for.

“Don’t ask,” Duke said, shaking his head, and he stood up carefully- Nathan reached out without thinking, catching his arm, and that probably didn’t actually help resolve any of the issues in the room just then, but Duke just rolled his eyes.  “Nathan.  How many times do we have to go over this?  I am fine.  It is just a graze.  I am not going to pull any stitches.”  His expression was exasperated, but there was a hint of ‘ _just run with it_ ’ that Nathan knew very well, and he gave a brittle smile.

“Sorry.  Just worried.”  He let go of Duke’s arm, but continued to hover, and it wasn’t a difficult role to play, to pretend he was still worried about an injury he’d been promised no longer existed.  He was worried enough _without_ the gunshot wound.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.  Wade, you should probably go- you probably need a few minutes to get your stuff organized, don’t you.  We’ll have Dwight call someone to give us a lift back to the Rouge.”

“Or I could wait and drive you back myself.”

“That is _not necessary_ ,” Duke said, through gritted teeth, and Nathan glanced between the two, tried to look puzzled instead of guilty.  And, hopefully, concerned in a supportive way, not a creepy abuser kind of way.

Which was not a thing he’d ever thought he’d have to worry about.  Particularly in relation to _Duke_.

“There’s really no need to request a police vehicle to drive you home when you have family right here, heading back to the same place,” Wade replied, bearing his teeth in an expression that only peripherally resembled a smile.

“That would be great, actually,” Nathan interjected, and Duke shot him a look that promised swift and unpleasant retribution, but this was not a fight they needed to have right now, and if it’d make Wade feel better to play chaperone for a few extra minutes, Nathan didn’t really see the harm.  “Duke, you wanna go put those clothes _on_ , so we can get out of here?”

“...Right.”  Duke turned in the direction of the bathroom, and hesitated, clearly not sure he wanted Nathan and Wade left alone in a room together.

“You need any help?” Nathan asked, deliberately goading, and he was going to regret that later, if Duke’s expression was anything to go by.

“...You know what, yes, actually.” ...Or he was going to regret it immediately, that was apparently also a possibility.  “You know, just in case.  Still a little off-balance from the pain meds, wouldn’t want to fall and hit my head.”  He caught Nathan’s arm, and pulled, and Nathan had no choice but to follow.  Which, admittedly, was a problem he’d created for himself.

“The hell, Duke?” he asked, once the door to the bathroom was firmly shut.  “You don’t actually need help.”

“No, I do not, but I’m not sure there wouldn’t be another hospitalization tonight if I left the two of you in there unsupervised right now, and I am not dealing with that,” Duke replied, stripping the hospital gown off with undue force.  Nathan turned sharply, focusing on the plain white curtains that surrounded the tiny window on the far wall.  Duke had always been far more casual about his body than Nathan was comfortable with.

“Wanna read me in?”  It’d be a hell of a lot easier to not give anything away if Duke just _told_ him what he’d already overheard.

“No, I do not,” Duke repeated, sounding ten types of pissed off.  “It may be a little harder to get Wade out of town than I thought.”

“Vince isn’t going to like that,” Nathan pointed out.

“If I weren’t concerned that one of his goons would get trigger-happy again, I really would not give a shit what Vince thinks of anything, but yeah.  I know.  I’m working on it, I’ll think of something.”

“Something to handle Vince, or something to handle Wade?”

“Wade.  Probably.”  Nathan jolted sideways, and glanced down to find Duke’s hand on his arm again, tugging him around.  “C’mon, I want to get the hell out of here.”

“...You’re really okay?” Nathan asked, the question slipping out, and Duke at least didn’t roll his eyes, didn’t make a face.

“Yeah.  Marissa took care of it.  I’m good.”

“Okay.”  Nathan let Duke drag him back into the hospital room, and didn’t bother to try and pull away despite the glare Wade directed at him.

“Right.  Come on, if you’re gonna give us a ride, I want to get out of here.”  Duke motioned Wade towards the door, and pulled Nathan along in his wake.

Jennifer bounced to her feet as soon as they were through the door, and Dwight followed with a little more dignity.

“So you’re really going to be able to go home?” Jennifer asked, looking Duke over as though she might see something someone else had missed.

“Yep.  Wade’s going to give us a lift back to the Rouge, and then he’s going to head back to the Gull for the night.  Do-”

“I’ll get Jennifer home safely,” Dwight said, and Nathan was a little surprised, but it made things simpler.  Duke looked vaguely suspicious, but Duke was always vaguely suspicious when people volunteered to be helpful, and he nodded slowly when Jennifer smiled brightly at Dwight.

“Alright, that’s good.  Jennifer, I’m sorry, but I think it’s gonna be a little later than I planned before I can get back there tomorrow.  And I don’t have my phone-”

“Yes, you do,” Nathan interrupted, and Duke blinked at him, and Trouble-based healing or not, Duke looked ragged, and Nathan was wondering if they _should_ have had him stay in the hospital for the rest of the night.

“I do?”

“Dwight grabbed it for you before he left for the hospital- I have your phone, your wallet, your keys.”

“Oh.  Good, that’s good.  So, then, just...  Just call me if you need anything, then, and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Don’t worry about it, you need to rest, you’ve had a very eventful day,” Jennifer said, reaching up to pat his cheek, and Nathan was a little surprised that Duke allowed it, was more surprised when he turned into the touch, just a bit.  “I got everybody else’s numbers while we were waiting, so if I can’t reach you, I’ve got options, I’ll be totally fine.  You just... take it easy, okay?”

“You bet,” Duke agreed.  With a little nod to the rest of them, Dwight led Jennifer off down the hall, and Duke sagged a little on his feet when they were out of sight.  Nathan frowned, concerned- and caught a similar expression on Wade’s face, worry and frustration, and Nathan wanted to feel sympathetic.  He’d been kept in the dark, given two pretty serious shocks in one day, was obviously concerned and protective- but Wade caught his eye, and his expression darkened, and Nathan just... didn’t want to deal with it.  He shifted a little, leaning carefully so that he could support some of Duke’s weight, rather than Duke pulling him along, and Duke either didn’t notice or was too tired to care, and Wade glowered and led them out to his car without another word.


	13. Chapter 13

The wind was cold and tasted like salt, the waves were rough and choppy, and the Cape Rouge was a blocky shadow tethered to the quay in the heavy darkness of the night.

Duke’s eyes burned, and he turned into the cold wind, letting it give him an excuse, letting himself feel the overwhelming relief of coming _home_.  The Rouge had seen him around the world and back, had ridden out storms he’d never mention and calm seas that gave him a scrap of peace in a world made for strife, had been freedom and security and a livelihood.  She was rough and ugly and smelled of iron and she’d been the best thing in his life for years, and he was so unbelievably glad to be home that it hurt.

“You okay?”  Nathan was warm against his side, hands careful where they were holding Duke up, and he didn’t even bother pretending he could keep his feet without that help, just leaned back into Nathan and let himself have this.  Stolen heat and concern and it didn’t mean anything, he knew that, but it was nice all the same.

“I’m fine,” he said, shrugging.  “I’m tired.  It’s been a long day.”  He paused, considered, and added, “It’s good to be home.”

Nathan made a noncommittal sound, which, hey, he didn’t exactly have a lot of reason to be fond of the Rouge.  Tough for him, he was going to be spending a lot of time there if Duke got his way.  Wade stalked past, heading aboard, and Duke moved to follow, Nathan shadowing awkwardly, having more trouble in the dark than Duke was.  They managed, though, and followed the trail of warm light deeper into the cabin, down the narrow steps and into the living quarters, and Duke looked around warily, trying to get a read on what had changed.

Not much, it turned out, Wade hadn’t really done much to the place, and Duke was glad of that.  A not-particularly-subtle stumble brought him in range of one of his caches, and he reached out, fingers flickering against metal under the guise of steadying himself.  Tension he hadn’t realized he’d been feeling slipped away; he could still defend himself here.  Nathan seemed to understand what he was doing, raising one brow in inquiry, and Duke nodded.  Nathan nodded back, though his gaze lingered on the hidden nook, and Duke made a mental note to switch out the gun there for one he liked less, just in case Nathan ever decided to be petty and start making noise about his defensive arrangements.

Duke tilted his head in the direction of the couch, and Nathan guided him over, helping him sit down- and healing or not, he was still _sore_ \- and Duke sprawled out, waiting for the sounds of angry packing from the bedroom to fade.  Nathan stood awkwardly, staring into middle-distance in the general direction of the kitchen bar, close enough to be decidedly inside Duke’s personal bubble, but not close enough that Duke was getting any practical benefit from it, and that was unacceptable.  If Nathan was going to hover, Duke expected perks- it was cold, and he was in _scrubs_ , and they were not doing much for him.  He shifted, reaching out with one foot to hook Nathan behind the knee, and yanked, and Nathan very nearly fell on his ass, flailing a bit to keep his balance.

“The hell, Duke!?” he demanded, glowering, and Duke smirked up at him, way more entertained by that than he should be.  But, well, he was kind of an ass, that was kind of his niche, so whatever.

“Stop standing there and staring at my kitchen like it’s hiding the secrets of the universe, I promise you, it isn’t.  Sit down.”  He patted the couch cushion next to him, and it was taking a risk, he knew, but he was pretty sure he still had a decent amount of almost-died-pity to work with.  Nathan continued to stand and glower for just long enough that Duke started to worry, before he cautiously lowered himself down onto the couch.  Duke wasted no time in wriggling around until he was leaning against Nathan’s side, which was... definitely better.

“...What are you doing?”  Nathan sounded slightly alarmed.

“It’s, what, fifty degrees out there?  I’m in hospital scrubs, I’m _cold_.  And I don’t really want to be cold right now, not after the day we’ve had.”  Not after the supernatural deep-freeze that had been Marion’s house.

“And you couldn’t have said something while I was standing up?  You have dozens of sweaters, I could’ve just grabbed one.”

“This was faster,” Duke replied, shrugging.

“You’re such a child.”

“Really?  Really, from you?  You who brings up crap from _second grade_ whenever you’re in a mood?”

“I do not- it is not _whenever I’m in a mood_ ,” Nathan protested, and Duke turned just enough that he could be sure Nathan would see his disbelieving look.

“You nearly let me get killed by angry counterfeiters because of the tack thing.”

“I did _not_ ,” Nathan argued, scowling, but there was a hint of amusement there, a hint of something like relief.  “I helped, I even went along with your ridiculous plan.  I let you have my _badge_.”

“...True,” Duke yielded, with a chuckle.  If there hadn’t been a real risk of death, that would actually have been fun- hell, it _had_ been fun, even with the chance that someone was going to get shot.  It’d been funny as hell watching Nathan try to play a crook, even better to be the one to show up and wave a badge around- which brought his thoughts around, and his smile fell away.  “I’m not sure I like that Dwight seems to think that I’m a team player all of the sudden.”

“What?” Nathan obviously hadn’t been prepared for the rapid subject change.

“The thing, today.  Treating me like I’m one of his cops, like he can tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

“You did.”

“Yeah, but...”  Duke sighed, and raked a hand through his hair, and ugh, dried blood, he needed a shower.  “That’s not the point.”

“What is the point?” Nathan asked, and Duke knew that tone, the flat, even voice he used when he didn’t want to sound as curious as he was.

“Point is, when I- when I left-” which was the only way to phrase it, with Wade still moving around, and Christ, how much had he brought with him?  The bedroom wasn’t even that _big_ , how much could he possibly have to pack?- “I knew where I stood, and it wasn’t in anyone’s good graces.  I come back, and people are being... _nice_.  I don’t like it.”

“You don’t like that people are being nice to you?”

“I don’t like that I don’t understand _why_.”

“Dwight’s smart enough to recognize a valuable resource when it’s standing in front of him,” Nathan said, picking his way through the words with care, and Duke appreciated the effort, he did, but it wasn’t exactly necessary.

“It’s not just Dwight.”

“But Dwight’s the one that’s bothering you.”

“...Yes.  I’m a criminal, Nate, you’ve never hesitated to point that out.  Having the chief of police pull me along on a case without a second thought-”

“You worked cases with Audrey and me for _months_ ,” Nathan pointed out.

“Yeah, but that was different.”

“How was that different?  I was the chief of police!”

“You’re _you_.  And Audrey’s... Audrey.”  Duke shifted over, to warm a new patch of his side against Nathan.  “It’s different with her, with you.”

“Why?”

The question hung, and Duke could feel Nathan staring at him, could feel the tension that had rolled through his lean frame.  Duke didn’t know how to answer, didn’t know how to explain without leaving himself vulnerable.

But hadn’t Nathan earned a little vulnerability, tonight?

Maybe he had.  And maybe it was still a risk, too much of a risk, but Duke had risked himself for less important things.

“Because _I_ know that if it comes down to it, I’ll have your back.  I can be _sure_ of that.  Working cases with you two, I know I’m not gonna make the wrong call.”

“You think you might make the wrong call with Dwight?”

“I think it’s a risk I’m very uncomfortable having everyone around me be comfortable taking.”

“Maybe they trust you.”  Nathan’s voice was painfully bland, and Duke laughed, bitter and not bothering to hide it.

“Why the hell would they trust me?  You don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

Duke sat up, pulling away from Nathan sharply.  His stomach was churning, and the sudden movement sent a lance of pain shooting behind his eyes, but he needed to stand, needed to move, because that was a damn _lie_ , and he should have known better.  Should never have let his guard down.

“Don’t bullshit me, Nate,” he snapped, pushing himself to his feet, and okay, not the best decision- the room spun in a lazy circle as he tried to _keep_ on his feet.

“Duke, I wasn’t-”

“Is there a problem out here?” Wade asked, appearing in the doorway to the bedroom, an overstuffed duffel bag slung over one shoulder.  He looked less _concerned_ than _expectant_ , and Duke swallowed a curse, because this was not what he needed.  He didn’t need Wade looking for an excuse to take a swing at Nathan, didn’t need to provide any further fuel for Wade’s completely insane interpretation of things, because Nathan had enough problems right now- hell, _Duke_ had enough problems right now- without Wade deciding to be difficult.

“No.  No problem,” Duke said, words clipped.  Nathan sat, jaw clenched, lips pressed tight together, carefully avoiding looking at Wade, and it was not reassuring that his hands had closed into fists.

“Sounded like there was,” Wade said, walking through the kitchen with an uncomfortable amount of purpose.  Nathan tensed further in response, and Duke was going to kill the both of them if they had a fistfight on his boat, he knew from experience that there was _not_ enough room for a good fight, and it’d just end in blood and tears and piles of his broken stuff.

And Nathan, at least, should know better, given how many of those experiences involved him.

“Maybe you should get your ears checked,” Duke replied, baring his teeth in a sharp smile.  “I can recommend a decent otolaryngologist, if you’d like.”  He leaned back against the bookshelf, trying to make it look casual and dismissive, instead of like he was on the edge of collapse.

“See, the thing of it is-”

“Wade, don’t take this the wrong way, but get the fuck off my goddamn boat,” Duke snapped, because Nathan had shifted his weight, was braced to move, and Duke was out of time to head off the impending disaster before him, and he honestly wasn’t sure that if Wade and Nathan got into a fight now, that it wouldn’t end in very uncomfortable explanations about blood and power and Troubles.  “Now.”

Wade hesitated, taking his attention off of Nathan, hopefully reading just how serious Duke was in his tone, and Nathan stood up, unfolding off of the couch, and Duke braced-

-but Nathan just crossed the narrow space and took his arm.

“Sit down before you fall down,” he instructed, firm and resolute, ignoring Wade’s looming presence.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Nate,” Duke ground out, but he didn’t resist when Nathan guided him back to the couch, deliberately putting his back to Wade as he did so.  With Nathan ignoring him, and Duke obviously too weak for a fight- and he was not looking forward to getting a glimpse in the mirror, he probably looked like death warmed over- Wade seemed to be unsure what to do, some of the visible hostility subsiding.

“Somebody has to make sure you remember that you have limits,” Nathan replied, the words gentler than they could have been.

“I can’t have limits, I’m surrounded by people who don’t know when to leave well enough alone,” he grumbled, and directed a glower at Wade.  “Seriously, Wade, I would really appreciate it immensely if you would go- pretty much anywhere else, actually.”

“...Fine.  I’ll come by tomorrow with something for you to eat, your fridge is empty.”

“Rich foods,” Nathan commented, not looking up.  “Iron-heavy, preferably.”

“I can feed myself,” Duke objected, because as much as he would prefer Wade and Nathan not be actively fighting, he also didn’t want them working together, because he did not need that kind of grief.

“I’ll see what we’ve got available,” Wade said, ignoring Duke’s objection entirely, and finally, he left.

“...Just... sit there a minute,” Nathan said, once Wade was definitely gone.  He stood up and made to move toward the bedroom, and Duke scowled at him.

“I need to lock up, and check a few... security measures, and why exactly do you think you get to tell me what to do?”

Nathan paused, then switched directions.  “I’ll go lock up, you can check the rest of your security measures in the morning, and you’re- you look like hell, that’s why.”

“Really, you think there is any chance I’m not checking my security tonight, after earlier?”  Duke was, frankly, amazed that Nathan had survived this long.

“Duke.  Please.  Just- sit there a minute.  I can lock up.  I’ve seen you do it.  We’ll hear it in plenty of time if someone tries to get past your _iron doors_ , and don’t give me that look, I _know_ that’s why you don’t ever oil the hinges properly.  You know as well as I do that as soon as you get the doors locked, getting down here will be practically impossible.”

“Practically isn’t worth much in this town, Nate.”

“No, but if you don’t think Dwight will have patrols driving by every few minutes, and if you don’t think Vince is currently putting the fear of God into the Guard, you’re dreaming,” Nathan countered.  “Someone made Vince look weak tonight, made it look like he can’t control his people, and that won’t stand.  Nobody in the Guard is going to come within a mile of the marina tonight.  And even if they tried, Dwight is on it.”  Nathan paused, and gave Duke a look laced with pleading.  “You know I wouldn’t take chances right now, right?”

“...Fine.  Go lock up,” Duke yielded, grudging.  He settled a little further back on the couch, slinging an arm over the back and surreptitiously checking the placement of another hidden weapon, and watched Nathan head down the hall to lock up.  Tilting his head back, he leaned into the couch, and closed his eyes, needing just a second to marshal himself.

A hand on his shoulder woke him, and he lashed out instinctively, thrusting out with the near arm and reaching for his gun, and a rough grip caught his wrists, held him in place long enough for him to recognize who had touched him.

“Sorry,” Nathan said, looking sheepish, a hint of a blush staining his cheeks.  “Didn’t realize you were actually out.”

“Fuck, what- I fell asleep?”  That was... embarrassing, given the fuss he’d been making.

“Seems like.  Changed the sheets for you- c’mon, let’s get you settled.”  Nathan kindly didn’t _mention_ the fuss Duke had been making, didn’t offer up an I-told-you-so, so Duke didn’t protest being pulled to his feet.  Nathan half-carried him toward the bedroom, and Duke let himself lean.  As soon as they were into the hall, he wedged himself against the wall, forcing Nathan to stop long enough that he could close the hall door, and threw the lock.

“Uh, Duke?  I’m gonna have to undo that to get back to the couch.”

“Yeah, that sounds like a terrible idea, let’s not do that,” Duke said, making a vague stumble in the direction of his bed, forcing Nathan to either move with him or drop him.  Nathan elected not to drop him- which Duke appreciated- and Duke dragged him to the bed by way of momentum.  “You’re too tall to sleep on the couch, there is plenty of space here, lie down and do not make this weird.”

“...Duke, I don’t think-”

“Nathan.  Shut up, and lie down.  I am not having this fight with you right now.  This is the safest room on the Rouge, and I don’t want to spend the rest of the night stumbling back and forth down the hall out of nerves, and I don’t really think you want to, either.”  Duke managed just enough forethought to pull the covers back _before_ he flopped down onto the bed, and he was so, so very glad he’d counted his bed as a major indulgence, it was huge and soft and exactly what he needed just then, pure luxurious comfort.

A moment later, the far side of the bed dipped, and he could feel Nathan shift; a moment later, the covers settled over his shoulders, and Duke had just enough time to realize that this had been a _terrible_ idea before he was asleep.


	14. Chapter 14

Nathan woke slowly, for the first time in a long time.  It had been very rare, since his Trouble had triggered, and lately, it hadn’t happened at all- he’d come awake all at once, usually choking on sounds he didn’t want to classify, always with his pulse pounding in his ears and a wrenching sense of dislocation.  Now, however, there was just... the sense that he was rested, and... not precisely content, but close.

Which was confusing, at first, until he registered the scent of warm skin and spice, of rust and salt, the faint edge of sweat and a laundry detergent that he didn’t use, but Duke did, and he remembered the previous day.

That thought brought him all the way awake, fear racing through him, because if he’d dreamed it, if he’d made it all up...  He opened his eyes-

-a mass of dark hair was _way too close_.  Nathan blinked, and shifted, trying to get a perspective that was useful, and couldn’t- his limbs didn’t want to respond, met resistance as he tried to move, and he realized that somehow, during the night, he’d wound up wrapped around Duke.  His left arm was draped over Duke’s side, and pinned there, keeping Duke’s back pressed against Nathan’s chest, which was all he could determine by sight; the difficulty of moving anything else suggested he was tangled pretty thoroughly.

Nathan was overwhelmingly glad that they’d both been too tired last night to ditch their borrowed hospital scrubs.

With as much delicacy as he could manage, Nathan tried to shift away, tried to wriggle free of the tangle he was in.  He didn’t want to wake Duke up- he’d been starting to get seriously concerned by how exhausted Duke was, last night, had been worried about his words and his movements, and he could use as much sleep as he would tolerate- but he needed to stand up, go through his morning routine, and sooner would be better than later.

“Why are you _moving_?” Duke mumbled, but the question lacked force given that he followed it up with a stretch that made Nathan think of a cat in the sun, long and lean and more flexible than he had any right to be.  It let Nathan get his arm back, and he scooted back as Duke rolled over, looking tousled and sleep-clouded, but better than last night.  And, incidentally, far more comfortable than Nathan would have expected with their extremely close proximity.

“Sorry.  Didn’t mean to wake you,” Nathan offered, shifting back a bit more.  “Need to get up, that’s all.”  Duke blinked, slow and not completely awake, and Nathan didn’t think he’d seen Duke look that relaxed since...

Since before he’d left Haven.  Maybe even since before Nathan had left for college.

“You can go back to sleep,” he said, fighting the urge to clutch the blankets up against his chest, to _hide_ as much as he could from that unsettlingly close gaze.

“Time‘s it?” Duke asked, blinking again, and Nathan reached for the phone he’d dropped on the bedside table.

“...Eleven thirty,” he admitted, and yeah, that was... a lot later than _he’d_ planned to sleep, certainly.  Apparently longer than Duke had planned on, as well, because he sat up abruptly, the easy, languid calm falling away along with the sheets, until he more resembled the Duke Nathan was so familiar with- tension made the lines of his face harsher, made his shoulders press against the lines of his shirt.  Nathan felt an unexpected pang of loss at the change.

“Fuck.  I need to get moving, Jennifer will-”

“She’ll be fine.  She told you not to worry about her today, and it’s not like she’s totally on her own,” Nathan said, trying to be reassuring.  And to be fair, since she was staying in Audrey’s apartment- and Nathan did _not_ flinch at that thought, though it was a near thing- she was right beside one of the best restaurants in town, so she’d at least be able to get something to eat, and she’d seemed comfortable enough with Wade yesterday.

“...Right.  You’re right.”  Duke appeared to make a genuine effort to relax, and Nathan watched him carefully.

“You okay?”

“...Yeah.  I need to shower, but I can wait a few minutes.  Go hit the head, do _not_ turn the dial on the sink more than three quarters to hot, you will scald yourself and I have seen enough of the hospital for at least a week.”  Duke raked his fingers through his hair, and Nathan stood up, appreciating- and a little surprised by- the warning about the water.  As much as Duke taunted him about his Trouble, he’d never seemed to think about how much effort Nathan had to go through to compensate- or maybe Nathan had just never realized that he had.

“Thanks.”

“Sure,” Duke replied, looking distracted, and Nathan retreated into the bathroom.

When he came back out, Duke had ditched his scrubs and had a towel wrapped around his waist (which, Nathan realized, was probably entirely for Nathan’s benefit), and was poking his side, looking thoughtful.  Nathan might’ve blushed, he wasn’t entirely sure, but he drifted closer, wanting to _see_ that the wound was gone.  Duke looked up, and turned so that Nathan could get a better view, fingertips framing the healed skin.

“Not a mark.  Not sore anymore, either.  But she left the rest.”

Nathan looked up, and his gaze caught on the bruises on his shoulder, the ones Wade had spotted in the hospital.  Marks clearly left by fingertips...  And the split lip.

Nathan looked away.

“Sorry.”

“Seriously, stop doing that, you haven’t apologized to me this much in years, it’s wigging me out.”  Duke took the few steps necessary to bring him to his closet, and started gathering up clean clothes.  “It’s not like I didn’t leave my own marks.”  Nathan frowned, and Duke apparently caught the confusion in his silence, turning to glance over his shoulder.  “Split knuckles, bruises?  Look at your damn wrist.”

Nathan didn’t think it was reasonable for Duke to take credit for the split knuckles, that was Nathan’s fault, but he did look down at his wrist.  A matching set of bruises ringed his forearm, little points of pressure from where Duke had grabbed him.

That really shouldn’t make him feel better.  It did anyway.

“Anyway.  I need a shower, seriously, I need like, five showers worth of shower.  Do me a favor and do _not_ spend the entire time looking for where I’ve hidden my guns, I hate having to find somewhere new to put them every time you come over.”  Duke headed for the bathroom, clean clothes in one hand, and paused.  “I still need a ride back to the Gull, so don’t- don’t go anywhere, all right?”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Nathan replied, a little surprised that Duke seemed worried that he’d take off.  Dwight had made it clear last night that he didn’t expect Nathan to show up for work today, and Nathan had no intention of letting Duke go anywhere without him- nor going anywhere without Duke.  They had work to do, after all, and Nathan was... definitely not going to be comfortable with distance for a little while.

“...Good.  Okay.”  Duke nodded, and retreated, and the water turned on with a thin, high-pitched whistle that was going to drive Nathan out of his mind in short order.  Rather than hover in the bedroom and suffer, he borrowed a pair of pants and a shirt- the pants were a little loose on him, but they were better than the hospital scrubs, and he could sort of pin them in place with his gun belt- and got dressed quickly, then headed down the hall and unlocked the door to the kitchen.  A quick check showed that Wade hadn’t been joking- there was almost nothing in the way of food, not even basic staples.  There was, however, a package of coffee grounds of questionable age and value, and Nathan started a pot brewing.  Duke took his coffee with milk and sugar and other frills, usually, but black would have to suffice for today.

That accomplished, Nathan _did_ spend a few minutes searching the kitchen and the sitting area for hidden weapons, because there was always the chance that knowing where one or two of them were would end up saving somebody’s life.  He stopped only because someone pounded on the door.  He reached for his gun, and edged toward the door, tense and wary, and glanced out the small peep-hole arranged with a view of the doorway-

-Wade.  Of course.

Nathan holstered his gun, and opened the door, and Wade blinked, then frowned a bit as he took in what Nathan was wearing.  Nathan reminded himself that Wade had reason to be suspicious, and tried not to take offence to the dark edge that Wade’s frown took on when he clearly recognized the clothes.  Though what the hell else he was supposed to have done, given that he hadn’t made it back to his place to pick anything up...

“Morning, Wade,” he said, when the silence had stretched uncomfortably long.

“Detective Wuornos,” Wade replied, and held up a plastic bag.  “Brought by some food.”  Nathan stepped aside, out of the way, and motioned for Wade to come inside; Wade did so, skirting around Nathan more than he needed to, distrust or disdain, Nathan didn’t know which.

“Where’s Duke?” Wade asked, setting the bag on the counter, and looking around with a frown.

“Shower,” Nathan replied, and Wade glared.

“Alone?”

“...Not in the habit of inviting myself into other people’s showers,” Nathan said, and Wade rolled his eyes.

“Is it safe for him to be standing up for that length of time?” Wade clarified, and Nathan shrugged.

“Seems to be.  He’s doing fine this morning.  More worried about leaving Jennifer to fend for herself than he is about anything else.”

“He’s like that, that doesn’t actually mean he’s fine,” Wade bit back, and Nathan made a deliberate effort to keep his expression neutral.

“I know how he is,” he said, calmly.  “Known him a long time.”  Had, in point of fact, known Duke better than Wade, for longer than Wade, and he was not enjoying having Wade show up and make assumptions.

“Yes, you have, haven’t you,” Wade replied, and honestly, it had to be some sort of family skill, the ability to make a simple statement sound like a challenge, like an insult.

Nathan liked it a lot better coming from Duke, and he hated it when Duke pulled that shit.

“Grew up together,” Nathan said, shrugging again, because if Wade was going to try and pick a fight, Nathan was going to be as unresponsive as possible until he got bored.  He glanced at the coffee pot, realized it was more or less done, and went to the cabinet, taking down two mugs.  He paused, and glanced at Wade, reaching for a third.  “Coffee?”

“No, thanks.”

Nathan put the third mug back, and poured himself some coffee, then set it aside to cool.  Wade watched him, expression shifting from purely hostile to hostile with a side of curious, and Nathan shrugged again.

“Nerve condition.  Can’t tell if it’s too hot myself.”

“Yeah, Duke said something about that,” Wade said, adding a bit of pensive to his emotional mix.  “What happened to your hand?”  That was a test, blatantly and obviously, and Nathan was starting to think he shouldn’t have opened the damn door, but it was too late for that option.

“Moved wrong when I got home last night.  Clipped the rail on the porch.”

“Uh huh.”  Wade didn’t believe him; Nathan really couldn’t blame him for that.  Silence stretched out between them, and Nathan wondered what, exactly, Wade was waiting for, what he expected to happen next.

The sound of the water cut off, and the silence stretched further.  Nathan let it, paying more attention to the muffled sounds he could hear from down the hall than he was to the increasingly irritated looks Wade kept shooting at him.

“I swear to God, Nathan, if you are looking behind bookshelves, I’m- Wade, hi, you are... here.”  Duke paused in the doorway to the kitchen, shirt halfway on, a thin line of bandaging around his ribs (and it was fortunate that Duke had thought to bother, had thought to wrap a non-existent injury, or Wade would have had even more questions), and shot a worried look between Wade and Nathan.  Nathan gave Duke the best bland look he could manage, before he nodded in the direction of the coffee pot.

“Made coffee,” he said.  “Your brother brought food.”

“... Right,” Duke said, pulling his shirt the rest of the way on, and heading for the coffee pot.  He glanced at the mug on the counter, looking briefly puzzled before, without a word of explanation, he reached out and touched the surface of the liquid.  “You’re fine, it’s cool enough.”  He took the empty mug and poured himself a decent measure, then crossed to the refrigerator.  “...This is completely empty,” he observed, sounding absolutely baffled.

“Yep.  Sorry, no milk or sugar I could find.”

“Why is this completely empty?”  Duke closed the fridge, and opened a cabinet, sounding alarmed now.  “Why is there no _sugar_?  I had sugar, sugar does not go bad!”

“I was in the process of emptying things out,” Wade said, and Duke turned, looking... betrayed, really, that was the best word Nathan could find for that expression.

“And you started with my _kitchen_?”  Duke glanced around, and frowned.  “You started with my _food_?”

“Everything else was personal,” Wade replied, and he sounded pained.  Duke looked confused, but Nathan understood, suddenly, remembered starting to go through the things his father had left, remembered the point at which he’d just broken down, fallen apart- the house was still mostly exactly the way the Chief had left it, and it had been nearly a year, now.

...Well, there was more crime scene tape, but that was new.

Still, Duke looked... shaken, like the empty fridge was a personal attack, and Nathan reached out to grab the bag of take out boxes Wade had brought over.  He pulled it closer, and nudged it at Duke until he had no choice but to acknowledge it.

“Wade brought food.  We’ll go to the store after you’ve eaten.  It’ll be fine.”

“...Right.”  Duke took a deep breath, like he had to center himself, like he was that freaked out, but when he exhaled, he was back to his usual self.  “I’ll have to make a list.  We can show Jennifer where the shops are, too, she’ll- she can’t get everything she needs from the Gull.”

“Good idea,” Nathan agreed, mostly because he had been completely unprepared to see Duke lose his calm demeanor over something that was at best a minor inconvenience.  “You should sit down and eat.”

“Yeah.”  Duke grabbed the bag, and his mug, and edged around to the other side of the bar counter, perching carefully on a stool.  “You should, too.”

Not interested in arguing, Nathan picked up his mug and sat down as well, taking one of the boxes, and discovering a particularly hearty looking burger.

“Thanks for stopping by with the food, Wade,” Duke said, managing to sound fairly level.  “I’d offer you something to drink, but apparently I don’t have anything.”  ...Or not so level.  Nathan shifted so that he could tap Duke’s leg with his foot, a mild chastisement, and Duke didn’t bother to look in his direction, but he sighed.  “Seriously, though, thanks, we’re running behind today, it was cool of you to bring breakfast.”

“Yeah, well.  I said I would.  You planning to be around later?”

“Yeah.  We have a few things to take care of, but we’ll definitely come by the Gull.  I want to get a look at the books, see how things have been going- first winter, and all, I want to see what the difference was between tourist season and locals, you know, get a sense for the dip.”

“...Right.  I think you’ll be pretty happy with the books, actually, you seem to have a pretty solid local clientele.”

“Good.  Anyway, yeah, we’ll be around.”

Wade looked like he wanted to say something, like he had a problem with something about that, but he shrugged instead of commenting.  “I’ll head out, then.  See you later, Duke.  Detective.”

“Wade.”  Nathan nodded, taking a sip of his coffee.

Wade showed himself out- Duke looked like he was planning to stand up, probably to lock up after Wade had left, but Nathan tapped him again and pointed at his food, and Duke sighed again and turned his attention to his meal.

“Y’know,” he said, after he’d finished his own burger, and a salad that probably qualified as a meal on its own, and a half a box of fries, “I was not going to forget to eat.  Unlike some people.”  Duke motioned to Nathan’s still-unfinished burger.  “Seriously, you need to eat, probably more than I do.”

“I’m fine,” Nathan said, stealing a fry, “I’m eating.”

“Uh huh.  Not enough.”

“I’m eating,” Nathan repeated, looking at the unfinished burger resentfully.  It was good, and usually he _enjoyed_ food, enjoyed eating- enjoyed _taste_ \- but he was restless, eager to start actually _doing something_ with the day.  They needed to start looking for Audrey.

He needed to find her.  Needed her back.  Needed her to fix what he’d broken.

He pushed the box away, and stood up.  “You done?  We have work to do.”

Duke looked at him, assessing, cautious- and smiled, slow and amused.  “You’re wearing my clothes.”

“I didn’t have anything with me, remember?”

The smile died, and Duke’s expression turned critical.  “Those pants would fit you if you’d been eating enough.”

“No they wouldn’t.”  Duke had always had just a bit more bulk than Nathan, a little more muscle.

“They’d fit better than that.  Fine, yeah, let’s go, we need to stop and let you pick up some stuff, and I need to hit a grocery store, show Jennifer around...  See if I can talk to her, a bit, once she’s comfortable.  See if she can give us something to go on.”

Nathan would have objected, would have suggested that shopping really wasn’t a priority, they’d be fine with takeout for a few days, but for the genuine distress he’d seen earlier.  He needed Duke focused, and if taking a little while today to make him comfortable would help with that, then it wasn’t exactly wasted time.

Even if it felt like it was.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...This chapter is pretty much unapologetic fluff. I have, however, figured out approximately what shape the rest of this story will take, so, yay! It looks like this will probably be part one of three, and will go back to kissing the canon storyline here and there throughout season four.  
>  Thank you all for your comments and kudos, you have no idea how happy they make me to see. You all rock.

Duke was grateful for Jennifer’s presence, he really was.  The ride over to the Gull had been awkward- not totally silent, but not easy, either.  Duke was distracted, and Nathan was distant, and it felt like there were oceans in between their sentences, moving and shifting and full of depths that could not be trusted.  Duke was trying to pretend that everything was fine, and Nathan seemed to know that it wasn’t, but was- in a most un-Nathan-like way- not calling him out on it, and that left Duke even further off-balance.

Jennifer, though, Jennifer just bubbled, greeting them both with genuine cheer, and chattering happily through the drive, and it was easy to fall into conversation with her, to point out the sights and the local landmarks, to tell stories about the people and places.  Even Nathan eventually broke down and started talking, sharing his own dry, deadpan comments.  It was easy to forget, for a little while, the sharp high and sharper low that had been his morning.

To pretend that waking up to the feeling of Nathan draped along his back, limbs tangled with his, wasn’t the way he wanted to wake up for the rest of his damn life, and fuck but it had been difficult to keep cool, to _not_ make things completely weird.  To pretend that the sight of Nate in his clothes, pants loose around his hips and beige sweater hanging askew on his shoulders, wasn’t bringing up every bit of possessive, protective _want_ that he’d ever felt.

To pretend that finding his kitchen, his _home_ , bare of food hadn’t shaken every bit of confidence he’d built up since he was a child, hadn’t left him _reeling_.  Nathan and Audrey could say whatever they liked about his line of work, about the methods by which he paid his way, but he’d spent years doing whatever he had to to survive.  He’d done whatever he had to do to keep food on his table, and a roof overhead, and finding one of those things missing was... jarring.

He knew, could see it in the distant way Nathan was watching the town pass by, that Nathan didn’t understand why they were doing this now.  Why putting food back in the cabinets and fridge was a priority, when they weren’t actually at any risk of going hungry.  Duke had a _restaurant_ , after all, it wasn’t like they couldn’t get whatever they needed- it wasn’t like he couldn’t pinch a bit from the kitchen at the Gull if he wanted to cook for them, even- but it wasn’t about that.  Not really.

And even if he didn’t understand it, he was going along with it, had accepted that it was something Duke needed to do, and that was strange, that was... very strange, but Duke was grateful.  And with Jennifer there to give them both something to focus on, it was possible to pretend, for just a little while, that everything was fine.

And if he made a particular point of referencing Audrey, of reinforcing the idea that the town just wasn’t right without her, well, Nathan had been right.  They did have work to do, and Jennifer was the key.  He didn’t know how, exactly, but he was sure of that, sure of it on a bone deep level.

He might have been pushing the point a little hard, though, to judge from the faintly disbelieving look Nathan shot him when he managed to relate her to a story about the greengrocer’s shop.  Admittedly, he didn’t think she’d ever so much as set foot in the place, so it had been a bit of a stretch, but Jennifer didn’t seem to take offense to it, at least.

Shopping itself was almost fun; Duke was more or less ransacking the shelves, picking up replacements for _everything_ , and Jennifer seemed to delight in the process- he was pretty sure that three bags of mini-marshmallows had not actually been on the grocery list, but they ended up in the cart anyway- and Nathan was surprisingly patient, occasionally grabbing something himself to add to the growing pile, occasionally raising an eyebrow at a choice he found questionable.

“Really?  Boxed taco shells?  That is a thing you need right now?”

“Look, they are handy, okay, sometimes tacos are a thing that needs to happen, and it’s a hell of a lot faster than making them myself.”

“So you cheat.”

“I- I do not _cheat_ , it is not cheating!” Duke exclaimed, genuinely offended until he caught the hint of a smirk lingering at the corner of Nathan’s mouth, and saw that Jennifer had her hands clamped over her lips to keep from laughing out loud, and it was nice, it was comfortable, and the only way it could have been better was if Audrey’d been there to elbow Nathan for him, and he wasn’t sure there was a good word in any of the seven languages he knew for the combination of melancholy loss and hope that swirled around in his chest at the thought.

“You cheat,” Nathan repeated, taking the box out of Duke’s hands and dropping it in the cart.  “Come on, I think there’s one aisle left you haven’t pillaged, we wouldn’t want to accidentally leave anything behind for someone else to buy.”

“Trust me, you will appreciate this effort when I have a chance to actually put something together,” Duke replied.  “I know you, Nate, I guarantee I can have you swooning given an hour and adequate kitchen space.”

“You think you’re that good?” Nathan scoffed, and Jennifer giggled as Duke drew himself up, putting on his most confident swagger.“I _know_ I’m that good.  I have a recipe for spezzatino di manzo al cioccolato- you will not _believe_ this, I guarantee it, it is divine, it is godly, it was the most treasured secret of a little old woman in Vernazza-”

“So how did you end up with it?” Nathan asked, looking like he was having to fight hard to keep a straight face.

“Because, Nathan, I, unlike some people, can be charming.  It’s a gift.”

“I suppose that would be an important trait in a con artist,” Nathan mused, and Duke smacked him with a bag of chocolate chips before dropping them into the cart.

“Wait, who puts chocolate in a beef stew?” Jennifer asked, and Duke turned a startled look in her direction.

“You speak Italian?”

“No, no, I don’t, I just- there’s a cafe down the road from my apartment, and the woman who owns it, her grandmother was from Italy, so she’ll talk, sometimes, and I just- I recognized those words, they’re food words, that’s all.  I don’t actually _speak_ Italian.”  Jennifer blushed, and Duke couldn’t help but smile, because she was adorable.

“Still, I am impressed, and trust me, it is _way_ better than it sounds.  The way it smells when it’s simmering...  I swear, it was worth the engagement for this recipe.”

“The _what_?” Nathan asked, sounding somewhere between shocked and appalled, and Duke laughed, really laughed, and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Wow, okay, that was worth it just for that look.  I did not propose to anyone for this recipe.”  He may have implied a proposal was in the works, that was a thing he may have done, but Nathan didn’t need to know that.  Nor did he need to hear that it was the little old lady’s _grandson_ that he’d been wooing, that was probably way more information than either Nathan or Jennifer needed.

“See, the thing is, I can totally see you having done that,” Jennifer said, biting her lower lip and looking him over speculatively.  “I can also totally see that working for you.”

“Do not encourage him,” Nathan said, shaking his head.  “No.  Do not.”

“Oh, please, like you don’t think he could totally get away with that,” Jennifer replied, and Nathan gaped at her, clearly at a loss for words.  He looked too utterly shocked to even refute such a ridiculous claim.

Duke laughed, and didn’t manage to stop until they had checked out, paid for the groceries, and were halfway back to the Rouge.

 

“It was not that funny,” Nathan griped, putting jars of tomato paste into a cabinet, and Jennifer shook her head.

“It totally was,” she disagreed, holding the door to the fridge open with her hip while she put away the vegetables.

“Your _face_ ,” Duke added, weighing in on Jennifer’s side, because it had _absolutely_ been that funny.  “You looked _scandalized_.  We grew up in a small town, Nate, I know scandalized when I see it.”

“I was not scandalized, I was _confused_!  I was trying to figure out how anyone could _possibly_ have drawn that conclusion!” Nathan responded, turning to throw a package of pasta at Duke’s head.  Duke ducked, and the bag hit the wall behind him and dropped onto the counter.

“Hey, hey, do not abuse the food,” Duke said, taking the poor battered penne and putting it in the correct cabinet.

“Tell me you are not serious.”

“Of course I’m serious, do not crack the pasta, show a little respect here.”

“...”

“Yeah, yeah, retreat into eloquent silence, fine, but don’t throw the food around.”

“So, how long have you two known each other?” Jennifer asked, closing the fridge and levering herself up to sit on the counter, her feet swinging.

“Since we were kids,” Duke answered, finishing with his bag of groceries and going to make sure Nathan hadn’t mixed up what went where.

“First day of kindergarten,” Nathan elaborated, engaging in a brief tug-of-war over the last of the groceries.  Duke won, and Nathan huffed a sigh and went to sit down on one of the bar stools.

“Wow.  I don’t have any friends like that, it’s kinda awesome to see.”

“It has its challenges,” Nathan said, dryly, and Duke turned with a wicked smile.

“Why, Nathan, that almost sounded like an admission that we are actually friends.  I never thought I’d live to see the day.”  The words were light, meant to be teasing, but Nathan’s expression froze, and the amusement drained out of it, and Duke thought through what he’d just said and realized that it might not have been the most tactful thing ever.

“You almost didn’t,” Nathan pointed out, painfully serious, and Jennifer glanced between the two of them, looking alarmed by the sudden change in mood.

“And yet, here I am,” Duke replied.  “Very much alive and present.”  Without pausing to think about it, he crossed the kitchen and clapped a hand to Nathan’s shoulder, shaking him just slightly- the contact, after all, wouldn’t do anything, but the movement, Nathan would recognize.  “And I _did_ just hear that, and you’re never, ever going to be able to live that down.”

Nathan reached up, and folded his hand around Duke’s, clutching too tightly, and Duke didn’t bother to correct him, just shook him again, enough that he’d _know_ it.

“You are going to make me regret that for months, aren’t you,” Nathan said finally, and Duke let himself smirk.

“You always think small.  It’s gonna be decades, buddy.”

“If I take it back, will you stop looking so insufferably smug?” Nathan asked, but there was a flicker of amusement in his expression again, a little sign of something other than guilt and fear.

“Nope, you said it, you’re stuck with it, we’re friends, you just have to deal with it now,” Duke replied, giving Nathan his best sunny smile, and he counted it as a win when he got a faint chuckle out of Nathan and a nervous giggle from Jennifer.

“Wonderful,” Nathan said, going for dry, and falling just a little short of the mark, and Duke was tempted, just for a second, to lean forward, to press closer-

-but this was a victory, a battle if not the war, and he contented himself with flicking his thumb in a light caress over Nathan’s fingers, invisible and thus unnoticed.  And if, when he drew his hand back, Nathan held on just a little longer than was reasonable, well, Duke would take what he could get, and be smart enough not to point it out.


	16. Chapter 16

Duke looked better.  He didn’t look quite as relaxed as he had first thing in the morning, languid and sleepy-eyed, but his color had improved, and he’d lost the subtle edge of panic that had been visible after his foray into the kitchen.  Nathan wasn’t sure he liked what that implied; more to the point, he wasn’t sure he liked not knowing if it implied what he thought it did.  He’d grown up with Duke, after all, he’d known him his whole life, and he should _know_ if there was a reason for that fear.

That he couldn’t honestly say for sure either meant he was a far worse friend than he’d ever imagined, or Duke was, and had been, a far better actor than Nathan had ever given him credit for.  He imagined the answer was somewhere in the middle, and it left him spinning somewhere between guilt and anger, with nothing productive to do with either.

Watching Duke thoroughly charm Jennifer wasn’t helping, either.  He still couldn’t really warm to her, even though he wanted to- she was fun, honestly, and having her around seemed to relax Duke, seemed to give him focus, so Nathan _should_ like her.  He should be grateful for her presence, particularly given the hope she represented.

He couldn’t figure out why she made him so uncomfortable.

“Alright, I promised Wade we’d stop by the Gull, and I really, really do need to take a look at the books- seriously, my first legitimate business enterprise, and I go and leave it to the wolves for six months, it is not a good precedent.  What say we all go get some dinner?”

“Sure,” Jennifer replied, sliding down off the counter where she’d made herself comfortable.  “I saw this chocolate cherry thing on the menu that I am dying to try.”

“That is dessert, not dinner,” Duke reprimanded, giving her a teasing frown, and Nathan glanced away as he leaned in to tap her reprovingly on the nose.  “Real food first, or you’ll spoil your appetite.”

“Gee, thanks, Dad,” Jennifer answered, and Duke flinched.  It was subtle, a tiny flicker of movement that Nathan caught out of the corner of his eye, but it was there.

“Yeah, well, someone in this group has to be a responsible adult,” he said, and Nathan could hear the difference in his tone, a tiny fraction higher and flatter than it had been a moment ago.

“That’s my job,” Nathan interjected, drawing attention, trying to give Duke a moment to regain his equilibrium.

“Yes, and you do it so well, Officer Stoic.  Really, though,” Duke said, moving to clap Nathan on the shoulder, hard enough to knock him sideways.  Nathan raised an eyebrow, but didn’t object to the rough handling; he should maybe have caught on a long, long time ago that half of Duke’s physical aggression with him seemed to be more about compensating for his lack of feeling with movement, rather than outright mockery of his condition- one more oversight, on Nathan’s part, one more place where he’d judged harshly where it maybe wasn’t due.

“Really.  That’s my job.  Don’t try to do my job.”  Nathan stood up, mirroring Duke’s gesture with a much gentler version of his own, and tried to look serious.  “Seriously.  Don’t.”

“Fine, I will leave you with the official title of Grown Up Killjoy.  Now c’mon, I want to check in.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Nathan muttered, not particularly enthusiastic about the idea of going to the Gull, since that necessitated contact with Wade, and really, Nathan could do without.  Also it meant another round of being stared at while out in public, and that only made him feel the weight of his failures more urgently.  But Duke wasn’t ignoring the situation; he had a plan, or an idea, or _something_.  Nathan was sure enough of that to let him take the lead, for now, to let him do what he thought needed doing, because if there was one thing his conversation in the car earlier had made clear, it was that Duke missed Audrey maybe as desperately as Nathan himself did.

It made things easier, knowing that.  Knowing that Duke loved her.  She wouldn’t be alone, when he was gone.  She’d have someone there to take care of her, to love her the way she should be loved.  And Duke wouldn’t be alone, either; he’d have a task, someone to protect, someone to keep him on the right path.

Jealousy burned in his bones at the thought, so intense it was almost a physical sensation- damn near a miracle, by his standards.

It was still easier.

He let Duke push him in the direction of the door, and waited patiently while Duke locked up.  Jennifer stood next to him, shivering, and Nathan frowned.

“You okay?” he asked, and she glanced up.

“Oh, yeah, it’s just the breeze.  I’ll be fine once we’re in the car.”

“Here.”  Nathan handed her his keys, and motioned to the Bronco.  “Go sit down, it’ll take Duke a while to make sure he’s covered all the bases.”

“Thanks.  ...He said, yesterday, when we were in the hospital in Boston, that he was a criminal.  He’s said it a couple of times now.  Is he, really?” she asked, and Nathan blinked.

“He is,” he said, carefully.  “He has been.”

“You’re a police officer.  How does that work?”

“... It’s complicated,” Nathan said, shrugging.  The truth was, it shouldn’t work.  It had never really worked.  Nathan had spent years warring with that part of Duke’s life, and Duke had spent years warring with that part of Nathan’s life.  There had been times when Nathan had looked the other way when he shouldn’t have; there had been times when he’d pulled Duke in for things he knew he hadn’t done, just because he knew he’d done something else.  At the end of the day?  Duke had always been just careful enough that Nathan couldn’t bring him in on anything serious, anything that would stick, and Nathan had chosen not to look closely enough to find out where he’d slipped.

They’d been circling closer and closer to the inevitable confrontation, pulled by their own personal gravity towards a point where one of them would win and one of them would lose, when Audrey had showed up in town.

They’d both saved her life, that day.  Nathan on the cliffside, Duke in the harbor.  Nathan had pulled her out of her car, out of the air- Duke had pulled her out of the sea.  And she’d pulled them both into her orbit.

There was something poetic to be found in that, he was sure.  Duke could probably find the words for it.

“I guess it’d have to be,” Jennifer replied, after a moment, and she shivered again.  “Okay, I’m gonna go sit down.”

She slipped away, and Nathan wondered if _he_ was warm enough, if the heavy sweater he’d borrowed was adequate protection against the chill harbor air.  He figured he was probably fine; Duke wasn’t wearing anything heavier, and he didn’t seem bothered.  It was usually pretty safe to gauge things by Duke, given their similar builds.

“Sometime today, Duke,” he called, when he was pretty sure Duke had moved past double-checking and into triple-checking.  Duke hesitated, but did yield, crossing the deck and following Nathan down to the truck.  And it was strange, having Duke yield, having him listen without Audrey there to pull him into line- Nathan wondered if it was temporary, if it was only due to their joint purpose, or if he’d just not noticed that Duke would work with him, as well.

Nathan was coming to suspect that there was a lot he hadn’t noticed.

The parking lot at the Gull was crowded, and Duke looked cautiously pleased by that.  His faint smile fell away, however, and Nathan tracked his line of sight to the doorway- where Jordan and two other members of the Guard were leaving.  Nathan didn’t flinch, but he did prepare himself for a confrontation; he reached out and pushed Jennifer behind him, and would have grabbed Duke, but he was out of reach.

“What-” Jennifer started, but Jordan spotted them at just that moment, and sneered.

“Nathan,” she said, purring the word.  “I heard someone took a shot at you last night.”  She paused, glancing at Duke, and added, “Pity they missed and hit your dog instead.”

Nathan took a step forward, trying to grab Duke- not sure if it was to keep Duke from reacting, or to cover for the surge of rage that Jordan’s words sent through _him_ \- but Duke was already moving; he took two steps forward, dropped his head, and very deliberately bared his teeth at Jordan, lip curled.  Jordan took a sharp step back, and Duke held his ground, radiating menace.

“Grr,” he said, pointedly, dark eyes blazing with implied threat.

“Duke,” Nathan said, not sure if he was more amused or dismayed by Duke’s response; it could have been worse- he looked calmer than Nathan felt, honestly- but he really wasn’t _helping_ , and Jordan was slipping one of her gloves off.  Duke flicked his eyes in Nathan’s direction, and took a single step back, putting himself between Nathan and Jordan, which, really, of the two of them Nathan was definitely the one with an advantage if Jordan lashed out.

“You should keep him on a short leash, Nathan, or someone might decide to put him down.  That is what one does with mad dogs, after all,” Jordan snapped, and Nathan’s tenuous hold on his temper evaporated at the threat.  He stalked forward, fully intending to push past Duke- and would have, except that Duke threw his arm out, fingers tangling in the front of his sweater, and he _pushed_ , hard enough to rock Nathan back.

“That doesn’t bode any better for an undisciplined bitch with bad blood and a history of biting,” Duke replied, keeping Nathan in place with sheer force of will; his voice was calm, almost amused, with a razor sharp edge.  “So I’d consider carefully just who you’re threatening.  Or do you think I haven’t figured out how Vince cleans up, when his people step out of line?”

“You don’t know _anything_ ,” Jordan started, stepping forward with her bare hand outstretched, and Nathan shoved forward, catching her wrist.

“You touch him, and it’ll be the last thing you do,” he snarled, because that wasn’t something he could handle.

“That’s enough!”  Dwight stood in the doorway of the Gull, looking angry and disappointed, and Nathan wavered- he didn’t want to back down, here, Jordan was a _threat_ , but Dwight seemed to be on their side, at least to a point.

Duke made the decision for him, reaching out to catch his wrist and pull, forcing him to either let go of Jordan or risk Duke brushing against her bare skin, and Nathan yielded, hooking an arm around Duke’s waist and pulling him back a step as he went.

“Jordan, put your gloves back on and go home,” Dwight ordered, and when she turned, eyes blazing, he met her gaze with a flat, unimpressed stare.  “You too, Halsy, Matthews- I mean it, get out of here.  You know better than to cause trouble in a public place, do not make me call Vince.”

“Fuck you, Hendrickson,” Jordan snapped, seething, and Dwight raised an eyebrow, waiting.  Duke cleared his throat, and Jordan flinched, and apparently decided that even with her two erstwhile allies, she didn’t like being outflanked.  She turned and stalked away, her friends following on her heels, and Duke called after them.

“Stay the fuck out of my place!”

“It’s not your place anymore!” Jordan shouted back, and Nathan was glad he was still holding on to Duke, because Duke lurched in her direction and only the fact that Nathan already had hold of him allowed him to react in time.

“Easy!  Easy, I told you, we’re working on the paperwork,” Nathan said, arms locked around Duke’s middle.

“Fucking _bitch_ , I-”

“That’s enough,” Dwight said again, though there was a lot less reproval in his tone now.  “Settle down, Duke, you won.”

“The hell was she even _doing_ here?” Duke demanded, turning his attention to Dwight, and Nathan didn’t let go of him, wasn’t entirely sure that Duke wasn’t still primed for a fight.

“Having dinner,” Dwight replied, raising an eyebrow.  “That is usually what people do in a restaurant at this time of day.”

“...Why are members of the Guard eating in my place?”

“Because you hired the best chefs in town?” Dwight suggested.  “Are you all okay?”

“Do you- I mean, is this normal here?  Because I gotta tell you, I’m not a small-town person, but this seems- there’s a lot of hostility here,” Jennifer said, and Nathan glanced back, realizing that he’d more or less forgotten she was there.  Which, it was very unlikely that Jordan would have hurt her, or that Jordan’s Guard goons would have hurt her, but it was still decidedly irresponsible of him to have lost track of her.

“Haven’s not exactly your average small town,” Dwight said, apologetic.  “But yes, this is fairly normal.  Particularly the last few months.”

Nathan flinched, because that was his fault.  Haven had always had tensions, had always had factions, but open shouting in the streets, people nearly coming to blows just walking around, that was new.  He’d done that.

Duke glanced over his shoulder, and Nathan belatedly realized that he was still holding on to him, still had his arms wrapped around him, and he let go, taking a step back.  Duke reached out absently and caught hold of Nathan’s sweater, keeping him from retreating any further, and Nathan wasn’t sure if Duke was worried about him, or if Duke was still just pissed and was aware enough to know that Nathan wouldn’t let him deck anybody he shouldn’t.

“...So, interesting place, Haven,” Jennifer said, scooting around Nathan to stand by Dwight.  Dwight gave her a slightly crooked smile, and shrugged.

“Interesting is a word for it.  You all planning to go inside, or just instigate fights in the parking lot?”

“Hey, we were minding our own business,” Duke protested.  “She’s the one who started shit.”

“Really, she started it, that’s what you’re going with?” Dwight asked, and Duke scowled at him.

“Well it’s true.”

“I don’t doubt that, I’m just saying-”

“We were planning on going inside,” Nathan interjected, before Duke and Dwight could go any further down a line of conversation that was guaranteed to make Nathan regret being seen with either of them, ever.

“Well, come on, then,” Dwight said, and he held the door open.

Nathan followed Jennifer and Duke, and let himself relax a little when Dwight brought up the rear, very obviously staying between Nathan and the crowd at his back.  He indicated a booth, there was a moment of hesitation and shuffling about as they got seated- Jennifer ended up tucked up against the wall on Dwight’s side of the table, and Nathan ended up across from her, Duke very determinedly taking the seat on the aisle- putting himself between Nathan and the rest of the restaurant.

This was going to be a problem, if it kept up.  Nathan shouldn’t let Duke fall into this role, shouldn’t let him get comfortable with the idea that he could protect him.  It would only make things harder, if he thought he had a chance, and failed.

And he would fail, in the end, because there was only one option left open to them.  They had to end the Troubles.  They had to undo the damage Nathan had done.

Nathan had no idea how to convince Duke of that, though.  Not when Duke was so determinedly protective.  It was terrifying, the sense of responsibility that inspired.  The idea that Duke would throw himself into harm’s way to protect Nathan, that he would _keep_ doing it, when there was no possible way to win...  What would that kind of failure do to someone who’d spent their whole life desperately trying to prove something?

Nathan understood- accepted- that he would be collateral damage in fixing what he’d broken, but he didn’t want to take Duke down with him.

It would never have occurred to him that that might even be a risk, before.  Now that it had, he had no idea how to work around it.

He had no idea how to reestablish distance, when he didn’t understand why it wasn’t there already.

But it wasn’t.  And it was selfish, it was foolish, it was every kind of cruel indulgence, but Nathan wasn’t sure he could cope with putting those walls back up.  He wasn’t sure he could go back to having no one and nothing, for however long it took to find Audrey.  He wasn’t sure he could go back to casual enmity after Duke had literally taken a bullet for him.

He hoped like hell Audrey would be able to pick up the pieces he was going to leave.

“I take it you’re feeling better today?” Dwight asked, directing the question at Duke.

“Right as rain,” Duke replied, tone easy and superficial, expression anything but.  Nathan knew that particular smile, had seen it directed at him more times than he could count- it was Duke’s _none of your goddamn business_ smile, full of suspicion and prepped for misdirection.

“Good,” Dwight said, either not recognizing the look, or not caring enough to call Duke out on it.  “Where are you on piecing together where Audrey is?”

“Well, that’s going to be up to Jennifer,” Duke replied, and Jennifer looked alarmed, eyes going wide, lips folding into a pout.

“How so?” Dwight asked, giving Jennifer a curious look.

“Yeah, I’m very uncomfortable with that idea, I mean, I want to help, I do, I just- I don’t know what you want from me,” Jennifer said, and Duke reached across the table to put a hand over hers, gentle and reassuring, and Nathan gritted his teeth and tried not to focus on it.

“Hey, easy.  I’m not gonna ask you to do anything you can’t do,” Duke said, fixing her with one of those looks, all earnest charm.  “But the way I figure it...  Time moves differently, in the Barn, right?  I can say that pretty conclusively.  I was there for... casual estimate, fifteen seconds.  Out here, six months went by.  That’s...  rough guess, about a million seconds per second, it’s about twelve days per second.  I popped out yesterday morning.  We’ve got... ten more days before even another second has gone by in the Barn.  Now, based on what I could see, the rate of decay was not high enough that the whole place would have come down in the next second.  There was maybe a minute or two left- so if we take a liberal estimate of a hundred and twenty seconds, that’s... I mean, we have like four _years_ before whatever was happening is _done_ happening.”  Duke paused, and Nathan knew he was staring, but so were Jennifer and Dwight, so he didn’t feel out of place in his gawpishness.

“Did you just do that math in your head?” Jennifer asked, and Duke blinked.

“I run a lot of numbers in my line of work, it’s- that’s not the point.  The point is, we have literally a span of _years_ if we’re waiting for the Barn to collapse, and Audrey could get pulled out of the Barn the way I was at any point along that timeline.”

Nathan sat back in his seat, a weight of despair and frustration settling over him.  Literally years, and with no point of reference on _where_ \- it made just _finding_ Audrey sound impossible.

“So what does that have to do with me?” Jennifer asked, voice trembling.

“Because what we need more than anything right now is information.  You could hear what was happening in the Barn, in real time.  Now I have no idea how that works, but it does.  Or it did.  You could tell us what’s happening, you could tell us if you can hear Audrey.  You can maybe even help us talk to her, find a way to pass information back and forth- maybe come up with a way to get her out of there.”

“Except I haven’t heard anything since last year!  I, I mean, I don’t even know if she’s- if she’d be talking, if- and I-”

“Jennifer.  What you told me, about what happened after.  There’s probably a reason you can’t hear anything, now,” Duke said, careful, and Nathan realized that he was skirting around the issue of Jennifer’s medication- he’d told Nathan, but in private, and obviously it wasn’t something Dwight would have reason to know.

“But- you mean my pills,” Jennifer said, and Duke looked relieved, like he was glad he wasn’t going to have to continue being vague.  “No, see, I don’t- I can’t just-”

“You went and saw a doctor because you had no explanation for what you were hearing, right?  And they told you that there was something wrong with you, that it wasn’t real.  But look at me, Jennifer- I’m _real_.  I’m right here.”  Duke reached out again, taking her hand.  “You didn’t _imagine_ me.  You didn’t imagine Nathan.  You didn’t imagine Audrey, or Agent Howard.  You know that.  You’re _not crazy_ , Jennifer, there is _nothing wrong with you_.”

“No.  No!  I am not going off my meds, do you- that is a terrible idea!  What if you’re wrong, what if I _am_ crazy-”

“Hey, look, Jennifer,” Dwight interrupted, tone gentle.  “It’s scary.  I know it is.  Confronting something like this?  It’s easier to think it’s something rational.  Something predictable.  Nathan, you saw a doctor when your Trouble kicked in, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” Nathan confirmed, clearing his throat and looking up.  “Yeah, a few.  Saw specialists all the way down to New York.  I thought...  I thought I was sick.  And the thing is, they had an answer for me.  Idiopathic neuropathy.  It’s a very rare nerve condition.  And I clung to that, held on to it for a long time, because I didn’t want to admit that- I didn’t want to admit that the Troubles were back.  I didn’t want to admit that I was Troubled, didn’t want to deal with- with what that meant.  But the thing is, the harder I clung to that idea, the harder it was to cope with everything else, because I was lying to myself.”

“I thought I’d had a psychotic break,” Dwight said, shrugging.  “Duke told you, yesterday, what my Trouble is, right?”

“...He said...  He said you were a bullet magnet,” Jennifer repeated, sounding uncertain.

“That’s right.  I didn’t know about it, I didn’t know anyone in my family was Troubled.  My father never told me.  I... discovered it when I was deployed in Afghanistan.  My unit was taking heavy fire, we were pinned down...  And I was scared.  I was afraid none of us were going to get out of there alive.  The pressure triggered my affliction, and suddenly my unit wasn’t taking fire anymore, I was.  I saw a tracer curve in the air, and come right at me.  I thought I’d lost my mind, later.  I thought it had to be the pressure, the intensity of the situation.  I didn’t understand.  I didn’t want to understand, because understanding meant my career was over, meant the whole life I had planned was done.”  Dwight paused, and rapped the front plate of his vest.  “But I had to face it, eventually.  If I hadn’t, it would have killed me.”  A shadow passed over his face, grief and loss and wounds still unhealed.  “It’s not easy.  But ignoring Troubles tends to make them worse.  There’s always a price to pay.  Sometimes it’s your life.  Sometimes it’s someone else’s.  If Duke is right, about your Trouble?  You might be able to save a lot of lives, if you’re willing to take a chance.  If you’re willing to trust yourself- if you’re willing to trust us.”

Nathan glanced at Duke, who was still holding Jennifer’s hand, but he seemed content, for the moment, to leave the conversation to Dwight.  Nathan was a little surprised, and a little suspicious.  Duke had his own insights, after all- his own Trouble.  And instead of opening up, he was watching Dwight.

“What if I stop taking them, and it turns out I’m not... Troubled, I’m not connected to anything?  What if I stop taking them, and it turns out I really am just crazy?” Jennifer asked, imploring.

“Then you know,” Dwight said, shrugging.  “You know, and you go back on your meds, and nobody holds it against you.  But on the very real chance that you _aren’t_ crazy...  Don’t you want to try and find out?”

“Hey.  Jennifer.  Whether I’m right or not, whether you can hear the Barn or not- you know we’re not going to throw you out in the cold here, right?” Duke said, drawing her attention back to him.  “You helped me out, big time.  You brought me home.  No matter what, that doesn’t change, I don’t forget that.  I owe you for that.”

“Promise?” she asked, voice shaking, the very picture of vulnerability.

“I promise.  And I tell you what- I don’t think these guys are gonna leave you on your own, either.  See, they hide it pretty good, but they’re suckers for a pretty face.  Aren’t you, boys?”  Duke glanced at Dwight, and at Nathan, very clearly prompting.

“Well, I don’t like to admit it,” Dwight said, offering a smile.  “But Duke’s right- nobody’s leaving anybody on their own.”

There was a pause, and Duke gave Nathan a sharp look, and Nathan cleared his throat again, uncomfortable.  He’d never been particularly good at talking about emotions, but this seemed like a situation where honesty was mandatory.

“You helped Duke.  You didn’t know him from Adam, but you brought him back.  I owe you, too.”

“And he means that in a good way,” Duke interjected, flashing a wicked grin, “and not in the way where he means he’s going to find a creative punishment for you.  Remember, Nate-”

“Decades, yes, I get it.  I am already regretting it.”

That won a giggle, if a slightly anxious one, from Jennifer, and a confused brow-wrinkle from Dwight, who at least had the good sense not to ask.

“...Okay.  I’ll...  I’ll try.”  Jennifer looked terrified, but resolute, and Duke squeezed her hand.

“Thank you.”

“This is a very brave thing you’re doing,” Dwight said, sounding entirely earnest.

“...Thanks.  But I’d kind of like to not think about it right now because if I dwell I am going to freak out and change my mind so how about we talk about something else?  Anything else?”

“Sure,” Duke said, letting go of her hand.  “Gimmie a minute, I’ll go find out why my waitstaff is ignoring us.”  He slid out of the booth, and headed toward the bar, and Nathan shifted slightly so that he could keep an eye on him.  Nathan might be public enemy number one right now, but Duke had more than his fair share of ill-wishers, and six months away hadn’t changed that.  He kept half an ear on the conversation Jennifer and Dwight were having, now, but they didn’t sound like they needed any input from him, and he was perfectly content with that.

A moment of conversation at the bar, and Duke headed further away, toward the kitchen, and Nathan tensed.  Which was ridiculous, he knew it was ridiculous, it was Duke’s restaurant, in his brother’s care, with several police officers, including the chief of police, visibly scattered throughout the crowd- there was really no risk here.  Duke would be fine, and Nathan did not need to chase after him.  After all, Duke had specifically intended to talk to Wade, to look over the accounts- it was reasonable that he’d retreat into the office at some point.

A waitress came over, someone Nathan didn’t actually immediately recognize, and started taking Jennifer’s order, and Nathan glanced at Dwight.

“You two be okay for a minute?” he asked, and Dwight gave him a faintly disbelieving look, but nodded.

“Yeah, we’re fine.”

“Okay.”  Nathan didn’t bother to say anything else, just slipped out of the booth and headed after Duke, and pretended not to see that Dwight rolled his eyes before turning his attention to the waitress.

Dwight could judge if he wanted; Nathan had thought _home_ would be pretty safe, too, and Duke had gotten shot.

He wasn’t taking any more chances.


	17. Chapter 17

That had gone better than Duke had expected, honestly.  And he was once again in a position where he was feeling grateful for Dwight’s presence, which meant it was definitely time to go somewhere quiet and concentrate on literally anything else, because he could make exceptions for Nathan and Audrey, but they were his limit on cops he could tolerate.  If he wasn’t careful, if he didn’t keep his guard up, it would be too easy to fall into a place where he forgot that when they didn’t need him any longer, everyone would go back to seeing him as nothing more than a criminal, a dangerous menace.   _Everyone_.

It would be too easy to fall into a place where he actually cared about their opinions, and that would only end in disaster.  He was probably fooling himself, thinking that it wasn’t already going to end in disaster, but he’d convinced himself of more outrageous lies than this one.  ...Probably.

He’d been riding high on a single vaguely successful conversation, but Nathan’s comment to Jennifer had reminded him of just how off-balance everything was.  How out of sync.  And sooner or later, the balance would tip.  It was inevitable, and Duke had to keep that in mind.

He checked in with a few members of the staff he hadn’t seen yesterday- asking Tracey to bring him a copy of the accounts for the last six months, while he did- and got more than a few tearful hugs, and had to wonder when he’d let himself become someone that other people missed.  It was unsettling, and very out of keeping with the promises he’d made to himself years ago.  When he’d left Haven, he’d sworn he wouldn’t let anyone else lay claim to any part of him-

-and here he was, with a whole staff of people he needed to look after, a business he was responsible for, family with good intentions asking all the wrong kind of questions, the potential salvation of the whole damn _town_ resting in the balance of what he said or didn’t say, how well he led some poor innocent girl down the path of good intentions and bad ideas, and to top it all off, saving Audrey meant risking Nathan, and protecting Nathan meant risking _everything_.

There was a reason he’d left Haven.  He probably should have stayed gone.

“Duke?”

Duke closed his eyes, a faint, ironic smile touching his lips.

There was a reason he’d left Haven, but there was also a reason he’d come back.

“I wasn’t sneaking out the back, if that’s what you were thinking,” he drawled, turning around and putting on a casual smile.

“I know,” Nathan replied, and he looked awkward and uncomfortable, and Duke shook his head.

“I figured you’d be okay for a few minutes with Dwight and Jennifer- didn’t figure anybody was gonna try anything with you sitting at the table with the new Chief.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about,” Nathan replied, and Duke believed it.  Which was its own kind of problem, because Nathan _should_ be worried about himself, he _should_ remember that, as Duke had said, Duke was used to people trying to kill him, and Nathan was _not_.  

But that wasn’t something Duke could fix right now, and hell, he really shouldn’t be complaining about Nathan actually _seeking out_ his company when offered a break from it.  He really ought to just enjoy it while it lasted.

Because it wouldn’t last long.  Sooner or later, Nathan would remember that he didn’t like Duke all that much.  And Duke had to remember that, because if he didn’t, if he let himself _believe_ this, the comedown would wreck him.

But oh, were there sirens among those shoals.

“Just trying to track down Wade.  I want to ask about the receipts- Dwight needs to work on his lies, Jordan wasn’t here for the food.  I want to see if I can get a read on how often members of the Guard have been here while I’ve been gone.”

“What’re you thinkin’?” Nathan asked, frowning, but not leaping to defend Dwight’s integrity.

“You heard Vince.  They’ve been keeping an eye on Wade.  I want to know how close an eye.”

“You think there’ll be enough of them who paid with credit cards for it to be useful?”

“...Maybe not.”  Duke’s shoulders slumped, and he scowled in the direction of the doors that led between kitchen and restaurant proper.  “Damnit.  I don’t want them lurking around here.  I don’t want any of them anywhere _near_ Wade-”

“Any of who?” Wade asked, stepping out of Duke’s office, looking tired and frustrated, and directing an unimpressed glare in Nathan’s direction.

“...Just some people I got in rough with,” Duke replied, and it was true in the most technical sense.  “Ran into one of them on my way in, they aren’t pleased that I’m back.”

“Are these people who had something to do with you disappearing?”

“Yes,” Nathan interjected, and Duke flicked a glance in his direction, not entirely sure what he was doing.

“Really.  Do I get to find out what the hell’s going on, now?” Wade asked, tone dripping with sarcasm, and Nathan crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against one of the counters, eyes narrowed in what could probably have passed for consideration if Duke didn’t know him so well.  That wasn’t Nathan’s considering expression, it was his ‘fuck you, I’m smarter than you think, go ahead and play my game’ expression, and it was one Duke had seen a _lot_ of, growing up.  He didn’t like seeing it directed at Wade; he knew they couldn’t exactly be honest, but he didn’t like the idea of trying to con his brother, either.

“Maybe.  Can you be trusted?”

“Nate,” Duke said, warningly, “I told you I don’t want him read in on this.”  Which, given that he knew damn well that Nathan wasn’t going to out the Troubles to Wade, was code for ‘do not spin a lie you can’t damn well back up’.

“I don’t think you get to make that call, Duke,” Wade snapped, looking frustrated.  “I want to know what’s going on.”

“Fine,” Nathan said, and motioned to the office.  “Not out here.”

Wade hesitated, then headed back into the office, and Duke caught Nathan’s arm as he moved to follow.

“The hell are you doing here, Nate?” he hissed, and Nathan put his hand between Duke’s shoulders and pushed him forward, guiding him toward the office door.

“What I have to.  Or he’s going to keep asking questions, and you know how that’ll end.”  Nathan paused, just outside the doorway, and leaned in, so that there was no chance Wade could see him speak- incidentally pressing close enough that Duke could feel the air from his words pass over his skin.  “Just back me up, here.”

Duke didn’t respond- couldn’t respond, Wade would see it if he tried and also his brain had just completely redirected, and fuck but that was _not helpful_ right now, Nathan needed to _not do that_ \- but he allowed Nathan to push him the rest of the way into the office, and close the door behind them.  He made an effort to look sullen and disapproving instead of flustered, and slumped down in one of the chairs.  Nathan leaned against the door, looking as calm and collected as he ever did.  It was obnoxiously attractive, and it _shouldn’t be_ , that was Nathan’s cop pose, but it was Nathan’s cop pose coupled with Nathan about to lie through his teeth, and Duke had always had a weakness for Nathan playing the wrong side of the rules.

Nathan had always been good at it, no matter how much he tried to deny it now.

“So?” Wade demanded, looking between the two of them.

“Six months ago, my partner, Officer Audrey Parker, was abducted after a confrontation with a fundamentalist group that we believe has ties to organized crime,” Nathan said, the words blunt and heavy.  “Given his history with this particular group, Duke agreed to help me try to find her.  Unfortunately, this group was made aware of his involvement in the case, and we needed to make him disappear in a hurry.  We had neither the time nor the resources to go through proper channels to accomplish this.”

Wade looked at Duke, suspicion writ in every line of his face, and Duke rolled his eyes, and shrugged.

“Why the hell would you be helping the cops?” Wade asked, and Duke gave him a bitter smile.

“Audrey’s a friend of mine,” he said, and that, that was the truth.  “She kept me from going to jail a few times.  I owe her.”  He paused, and let his expression fall, just a bit.  “She’s a friend, and I want her back safe.  And Nate needed help.”

“So you’ve been... what, in some shit version of witness protection for the last few months?” Wade asked, and Duke shrugged again.

“Not exactly, but close enough.  I was helping Nathan run down leads.  I have... resources, that he doesn’t.”

“Unfortunately, the avenues of investigation we were pursuing all led back here.  We ran out of options, we had to come back to Haven.  We were confronted on our way in, someone had leaked our route.  Duke’s cover is blown; they know he’s here, and they know he’s helping me.”

“So it is your fault-” Wade started, and Duke slammed his fist down on the arm of the chair he was sitting in.

“Damnit, Wade, you’re not listening,” he snapped.  “None of this is Nathan’s fault.  I _volunteered_ , I knew the risks going in.  And Nate’s not the one who screwed me over, here.  One of my contacts wasn’t as trustworthy as I thought.  But given that the secret’s out, I wasn’t interested in slinking around in corners, I want my goddamn life back.  They want to come at me, well, they know where to find me.”  And this was... this was almost fun, playing the game, telling the story, building it up based on nothing but half-truths and instinct.  Nathan’s expression hadn’t changed, serious and solid and uncompromising, exactly what anyone would expect from a small-town cop with more morals than sense and a problem outside of his usual scope- he played the part perfectly, not flinching from the improv.  Duke would enjoy this, if it weren’t Wade they were lying to.

He still kind of enjoyed it, if he were being totally honest.

“This is what you meant, last night?  That I didn’t know what kind of trouble you were in, that you were in too deep to get out?”

“Exactly,” Duke said, and he leaned forward in his chair, seeing an opportunity.  “Listen to me, Wade.  This is _serious_.  People have died.  These people, they do not fuck around.  And you?  You’ve got a giant flashing target on your back right now, because they don’t have a lot of other ways to come at me.  You’ll be a hell of a lot safer if you get the hell out of this town.”

“Duke’s right,” Nathan said, picking up the thread.  “You’re in danger as long as you stay here, and you’re putting Duke in danger, as well.”

“You think I’m just going to pack up and run, knowing you’re in this kind of trouble?” Wade asked, looking at Duke, and for one short second, Duke wished that Wade were more like their father.  Their father, after all, had never hesitated to cut and run when Duke became inconvenient.  “No.  No, I’m not- why the hell isn’t your department doing more to help?” Wade turned his attention back to Nathan, who simply raised an eyebrow.

“Haven’s a small town, Wade.  We don’t exactly have a lot of options here.”

“What do you mean, doing more to help?” Duke asked, practically on top of Nathan’s words.  “Did you miss the round-the-clock police protection?  Did you miss the uniforms patrolling the marina, and the- what, two teams?- the two teams from the station that are out in the restaurant right now?”  Because Duke _had_ noticed that; a strong instinct for self-preservation meant Duke was very good at spotting police in a crowd, and there were definitely more cops than there should be in his bar.  “What the hell do you want them to do, Wade?  You know damn well that I’d never accept going through real WitSec, and protective custody isn’t a fucking option.  We’ve got a _case to solve_ , here.”

“Do you hear yourself?” Wade asked, sounding genuinely shocked.  “You’ve got a case to solve, Duke?  You?”

“ _Audrey is my friend_ ,” Duke snapped, hands clenching into fists, because yes, the idea was ridiculous, yes, they were spinning a lie, but it was rooted far too firmly in truth for him to be dispassionate.  “I’d have gone after her, whether or not I had someone watching my back.  My chances are better with Nate, and his chances are better with me.”

“And you’d have done it even if she wasn’t, if _Nate_ asked,” Wade said, and yeah, that was a loaded statement, and sooner or later he was going to have to get Wade to _believe_ that he and Nathan weren’t actually together.

No matter how high up on Duke’s list of life-goals them being together actually was.

“Yes, I would have,” Duke said, sighing, and pretty sure he was going to have a nightmare of a headache later.  “Which, seriously, I don’t know how you missed the lesson on friendship back in school, but friends help each other out.  It’s amazing, really-”

“Point is,” Nathan said, clearly trying to get the conversation back under control, and Duke wished him luck with that, he really did.  “This is an active investigation, we have a very small team and very few resources, and there are people out there that will not hesitate to do harm to you if they think it will give them an edge.  And I think it’s a safe assessment of the situation to say that it would.”

“Who are these people?”  Wade asked, arms crossed over his chest, posture still belligerent.

“Call themselves the Guard,” Nathan replied, and Duke flinched, because there was ‘weaving a believable story’ and there was ‘actually giving away the game’ and this was treading way too close to the latter for Duke’s comfort.  “Fanatics, think they have to protect the town from the end times.”

“Yeah, they’re a riot, really, it does not matter who they are, what matters is that there are a lot of them, some of them are capable of subtlety, and they are dangerous,” Duke said, trying to emphasize the important idea, there.

“And your plan is... what, exactly?  Wander around until someone else takes a shot at you?”

“...No, my _plan_ is to-”

“Is part of an ongoing investigation, and thus not something we will be discussing right now,” Nathan interrupted, giving Duke a sharp look, and Duke rolled his eyes.

“Look, you’re the one who decided it was sharing time, not me,” he said, and Nathan managed to look entirely unimpressed.  “Fine, right, not the point.  Point is.  You need to get the hell out of here, Wade, this is only going to get worse before it gets better.”

“I’m not going anywhere.  I don’t know how you got yourself caught up in this, but I’m not leaving knowing that you’re in trouble.”  Because of course, of course the lawyers had gone to Wade, and not Sam, of course it was the one member of his family who actually genuinely cared who was stuck in the middle of this, now.  If it’d been Sam-

-well, if it’d been Sam, he’d have come back to find his restaurant sold and his boat scrapped, so it was probably better that they’d called Wade, but he wouldn’t be having to fight Sam to get him out of the line of fire.  Sam would have been and gone a long time ago.

“You’re gonna get yourself killed, Wade,” Duke said, voice rough, frustration leaking out.

“We’ll see,” Wade replied, and Nathan shot Duke a questioning glance, a silent inquiry as to whether to keep hammering the point home or not.  Duke shook his head, and Nathan’s frown deepened, but he didn’t argue.

“Fuck it, if you won’t listen to reason, there’s nothing I can do about that,” Duke said, and it was a lie, he was going to do everything he possibly could to make things uncomfortable enough to force Wade to leave, but arguing wasn’t getting him anywhere.  “But stay out of the way.  We’ve got work to do, and if you get in the middle of this, I promise you that being arrested for interfering in a police investigation is going to be the least of your problems.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with the cops, Duke, you’re starting to sound like one,” Wade replied, and that stung- probably more than it should.  Duke flashed a bitter smile, and stood up.

“Maybe I am.  Might not be the worst thing in the world.  ...C’mon, Nate, let’s get out of here.”

“I thought you wanted to look at the accounts?” Nathan asked, though he pushed away from the door, apparently not willing to make an argument out of it.

“I’ll take the books home with me, Tracey should have a copy ready.”  And Duke needed to get out of this office, needed to get away from Wade long enough to come up with a new plan, a new approach.

He wished he was half as good at not giving a shit as he pretended to be.

“Okay,” Nathan said, and opened the door, holding it open.  Duke stalked out, more comforted than he wanted to admit by Nathan falling into place beside him.  Tracey caught his attention before they’d made it back through the kitchen, handing him a flash drive, and he thanked her and pocketed it; at least he would actually be able to get some work done at home.

“We should check in with Jennifer and Dwight, let Jennifer know we’re leaving,” he said, feeling a little guilty about ditching her this early in the evening, when he’d more or less just promised not to do things like that, but he was frustrated and unlikely to be good company.  “Also, we should probably tell Dwight what we just told Wade, because otherwise this’ll fall apart pretty damn fast.”

“Yeah,” Nathan agreed, looking a little chagrined, as though he hadn’t quite considered all of the ramifications of their little play.

“Y’know, you’re still good at that,” Duke said, and Nathan flinched.

“We needed to tell him something,” Nathan said, and Duke shook his head.

“I know we did.  I hate lying to him.”

“You’ve never had any trouble lying to m- the rest of us,” Nathan countered, and there was accusation there.  Duke blinked, and gave Nathan a disbelieving smile.

“Easy, there, Nate, people will think you care,” he said, because he had no idea how else to handle that.  Lying to Nathan was second nature, was a well-practiced skill, was just part of the way they worked- and most times, he hated lying to Nathan just as much as he hated lying to Wade.  It didn’t mean it was any less necessary, sometimes.

After all, Wade was much less likely to arrest him than Nathan was.

“...Forget it,” Nathan said, and Duke wasn’t exactly sure what had just happened, but it left him off-balance and uneasy.  It was easier, safer, to just... put that aside and head back to the table, where Jennifer and Dwight were deep in conversation, angled towards each other on the bench of the booth, and... huh.  That was a possibility he hadn’t considered.

“Well, you two look like you’re having fun,” he said, because he couldn’t resist.

“We are,” Jennifer replied, bright and easy, “Dwight was just telling me about some of Haven’s local traditions.  Apparently there are baseball teams, and something called Founder’s Day is coming up?”

“Next week,” Dwight said, and the tips of his ears were pink.  “There’s a parade, and some ceremonies- which, of course, you two already know.”  He broke off, looking uncomfortable, and Duke could almost pity him.

Almost.

“Well, yes, Dwight, having grown up here, Nathan and I are very familiar with Founder’s Day.  But I’m glad to hear you’re telling Jennifer the real horror stories about life in Haven,” Duke replied, tone earnest in a decidedly over-the-top way.

“Oh, don’t even, I think it’s sweet,” Jennifer said, wrinkling her nose at him.  “It’s nice, to have traditions, and civic pride-”

Duke laughed, and shook his head.

“Oh, no, no no no, do not tell me you are one of those city people who thinks small towns are _charming_.  There is nothing charming about having half the streets in town shut down so that we can celebrate how _folksy_ we are.”

“You are no fun at all,” Jennifer said, pouting at him.  “And I still think it’s sweet.”

“Riiiight.  You just keep thinking that,” he said, before turning his attention back to Dwight.  “So, just a head’s up, we may have just lied our asses off to Wade about what’s going on, so, y’know, thought you should be informed.”

“...What did you tell him?” Dwight asked, frowning, and Nathan shifted awkwardly.

“We may have implied that we’re working an ongoing case involving the abduction of Officer Parker,” Nathan said, and yeah, no, _implied_ was not the right word, there, and Duke gave a short laugh.

“Yeah, no, we didn’t _imply_ shit, we lied.  A lot.  But I don’t want him to know anything about this crap, I don’t want the Guard to have any reason to think he might be an actual threat-”

“I thought you were supposed to be getting him to leave town,” Dwight said, voice tight and accusatory, and Duke sighed heavily.

“I’m _trying_ , but he’s stubborn,” he said, defensive.  “And until I can convince him to follow the grand Crocker tradition of abandoning family at the least provocation, I want him _not dead_ , and that means keeping him as far away from the Troubles as possible.”

“...Just... write me a report, Nathan, so I know what story I’m selling,” Dwight said, glancing at Nathan, and Nathan nodded, still awkward.

“I’ll have it to you in an hour,” he said, and Dwight shook his head.

“Fine.  Just...  Do what you can to move things along, I don’t need any more trouble with Vince.”

“You got it, Chief,” Duke replied, and it sounded more sarcastic than he’d intended it to.  “Anyway.  We’re heading back to the Rouge.  You two enjoy your dinner.”

“Night!” Jennifer offered, not seeming particularly upset that they were leaving, and Dwight turned just a little more pink, and Duke didn’t laugh, but it was a near thing.

“They seem to have hit it off,” Duke commented in an undertone as they left, leaning in so that he could keep his voice down and still have Nathan hear him.

“We do keep kinda dropping Jennifer into Dwight’s lap,” Nathan replied, shrugging.  “Prolly good that they can talk to each other, given that.”

“Not what I meant, Nate,” Duke said.

“I know what you meant,” Nathan replied.  “I’m not gonna gossip about my new boss.”

“You are no fun.”

“Grown Up Killjoy, remember?”

Duke laughed, and shoved Nathan just hard enough to throw him off balance as they headed out into the parking lot.  Nathan stumbled, glared at him, and shoved back, and for a second, it was like they were kids again, fifteen or seventeen or nineteen, horsing around without any concern for what anybody though-

-but that was a long time ago, now.  They weren’t kids any longer.

“So, looks like I’m cooking dinner after all,” Duke said, hesitating next to the Bronco.  He really should take his truck, if only because he was taking up valuable parking that could be going to customers, and _wow_ but he felt old, thinking that.  Taking the truck, however, necessitated leaving Nathan on his own.

“Guess so.  You comin’?” Nathan asked, frowning from beside the driver’s side door.

“... Yeah,” Duke said, and headed for the passenger side.  He could collect his truck tomorrow.

“So what’re we having?” Nathan asked, and Duke flashed him a grin.

“You’ll see when I’m done cooking.”

“Okay,” Nathan agreed, and Duke reminded himself that he could not get used to this.

Because it would be so very easy to get used to this.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, so, who else is going to be a writhing mass of anxiety until Haven comes back next year?
> 
> In answer to the mid-season finale, have some fic.
> 
> Once again, y'all absolutely make my day- I've been miserably sick this week, and it's wonderful to have something to look forward to.

Nathan still needed to stop off at home; he wanted clothes that actually fit, and he wasn’t particularly thrilled with the way people kept _looking_ at him when they recognized Duke’s things.  ...Also, because it might be slightly less distracting to have clothes that smelled like his own detergent, rather than the teasing combination of cedar, spice, rust, and whiskey that clung to his current garb, despite the crisp edge of detergent and sun-salt that assured him the clothes were clean.

Duke was tense, maybe because of the thing with Wade, maybe because of something else, Nathan wasn’t sure and didn’t ask.  Whatever the reason, he was quiet, only speaking up when they reached the road that would either take them to the marina or into the center of town, and Nathan turned away from the ocean.

“Uh, Nate?”

“I need clothes,” he said, shrugging.

“You know I don’t mind you borrowing my stuff?”

“Not really a long term solution.”

“Fine, whatever.”  Duke sprawled out on his side of the bench seat, feet on the dash, and Nathan would have chided him, but if Duke was making the effort to stretch out and relax, Nathan didn’t want to derail that.  A relaxed Duke was much less challenging company than when he was wound tight and defensive.

Of course, ‘relaxed’ was a matter of degree; it’d been years since Nathan had seen Duke _truly_ relaxed.

He pulled into the driveway, and glared at the kitchen porch.  There was crime scene tape across the door; he’d hoped that the crime scene teams would have kept to the hallway, but apparently not.

“Damnit,” he commented, annoyed.  He didn’t really want to have to unseal things and go through the process of documenting everything he touched and resealing things on his way out; he just wanted to grab his duffel bag.  “I really didn’t want to deal with this.”  Duke sat up, and gave him a considering look.

“Want me to get your stuff without fucking with the tape?” he asked.

“We really shouldn’t,” Nathan said, but it lacked conviction, and he knew it.

“What am I gonna do, Nate, leave fingerprints?  Pretty sure they already knew I was there.”

“You think you can get in?”  Duke gave him a look that was one part disbelief and four parts wounded offense.

“Seriously?  I’m hurt.  Really.”

“You haven’t gone in that way since you were sixteen.”

“Eighteen, thank you, and I am just as damn limber as I was when I was a teenager, I can make the window.”

“When the hell did you break in when we were eighteen?” Nathan asked, choosing to ignore the rest of that statement.

“How else did you _think_ I got your Christmas present set up when I wasn’t allowed to set foot on the property?”

“...I figured you’d asked th- my dad, and he’d been unaccountably moved by the holiday spirit,” Nathan replied, feeling a little foolish.  The Chief had been many things; sentimental about the holidays wasn’t one of them.

“...Uh huh.  Yeah, no, you may have been my best friend, Nate, but I was not going to ask your father for any favors- he _had_ threatened to shoot me if I ever came by again.”

“He didn’t mean it,” Nathan said, but he wasn’t actually sure of that.

“Yes he did,” Duke said, a note of _something_ in his voice, dark humor or bitterness, Nathan couldn’t say.

“I wouldn’t have let him.”

“He would have waited until you weren’t around.  You need anything that isn’t in your duffel?”

“No, that should do it.”

“Alright, then.  I’ll be back in a minute.”  Duke got out of the truck, and headed for the porch, and Nathan got out as well, leaning on his door and watching.  Duke didn’t take more than a second to size up the route; he glanced up, climbed onto the rail, and caught the edge of the porch roof.  He pulled himself up, and Duke had always excelled at the physical, had always been so sure of himself, of his body.  Nathan envied that, hated him for it sometimes- that easy, unquestioned confidence, the knowledge that he could trust his body and the signals it gave.  Nathan had never really had that- even after the Troubles had gone away when he was a kid, he’d always doubted.  He knew how unreliable his body could be.

Climbing across the porch roof, Duke looked completely at ease, and Nathan idly wondered how often Duke had used this particular set of skills for less generous reasons.  He wondered just how much of Duke’s lifestyle he’d helped train, not realizing where it would go.  ...Probably more of it than he’d like to think about.

There was a window, about three and a half feet away from the edge of the porch roof, small and octagonal and stained-glass, and the latch had been broken since Nathan was five.  His father had never bothered to fix it, since the window was small and hard to get to, and he’d assumed it’d be too difficult for anyone to use it as a way in.

Duke had it down to an art by the time he was twelve.

It had been hard, when he was young; he’d needed to use a stick to pry the window open, because the distance was too great for him to reach, and the window had to be open before he made the jump to catch the tiny ledge.  When he’d gotten older- and, more to the point, taller- he’d been able to balance himself enough to reach the window with his fingertips and pry it open that way.  It was always a hell of a thing to see; Duke stretched out along the wall, balanced with absolute precision, just barely reaching the frame.

But that wasn’t the hardest part of the process.  Once he’d gotten the window open, he had to pull himself in, and that was easier said than done.  Particularly now- Duke had been a skinny kid, with narrow shoulders and narrower hips; he had filled out a lot since high school, and Nathan was a little worried he was going to get himself stuck, and then they were going to have to explain this to Dwight when one of the neighbors inevitably called to complain.

He shouldn’t have doubted.  Duke made the jump, caught the frame, and eeled his way in the window like he didn’t have to worry about trivial things like bones and joints.  And, if Nathan had to guess, he probably dropped down onto the landing without even making a noise, the bastard.  The window closed, and Nathan settled in to wait.

A few minutes later, and Duke was slipping out a ground-floor window, duffel bag in tow.  He looked insufferably smug, with the bright, little-boy smile he only showed when he was genuinely pleased with himself, and Nathan found himself smiling back entirely without meaning to.

“I told you I still had it,” he bragged, and Nathan shook his head.

“Yeah, yeah, I should have known.”

“Yes, you should have.  You should know by now not to doubt me.”  Duke tossed the duffel into the Bronco, and flopped down into his seat, raking his fingers through his hair.

“I’ll try to remember that,” Nathan said, dryly, because he didn’t think Duke would believe him if he said it seriously.

“Yeah, right,” Duke replied, confirming Nathan’s thought.  “Come on, we got your stuff, let’s go home.”

“Okay,” Nathan agreed, and tried not to think too hard about how comfortable Duke sounded saying that.

**  
**Duke had been wrong, not that Nathan intended to tell him so.  It had taken far less than an hour for the smells emanating from the small kitchen to become overwhelming in the best possible way. **  
**

“Seriously, what are you making?” he asked, for maybe the third time.

“Seriously, you will find out when I’m done,” Duke replied, sounding- fortunately- amused.  “Just sit down and finish emailing Dwight.”

“Already done,” Nathan replied, closing Duke’s laptop and setting it aside.  His report was sent, and Dwight could do what he needed to with the cover story they’d come up with, and he’d sent out inquiries along every network he had access to about Audrey.  He’d have to make some calls when he was able to get to the station tomorrow, but for now, there wasn’t anything _practical_ he could do, and he was restless.

“Well, then, pour yourself a drink and stare pensively into the shadows or something, but you’re not allowed in here until the food is ready.”

“Do you listen when you talk?” Nathan asked, “Or do you just let the words fall out and worry about content later?”

“If I tell you to relax, you’re going to freak out.  If I try to distract you, you’re going to see right through it, and freak out.  So I can tell you to do what you’re gonna do anyway, or I can ignore you.  Which would you prefer?”

...Nathan stood up and headed for the liquor cabinet, which had apparently escaped Wade’s tentative efforts to start emptying the Rouge.  He found a bottle of scotch and a slightly chipped tumbler, and poured himself more than he should.  From the kitchen, muttered quietly, he heard, “That’s what I thought.”

Nathan sprawled out on the couch and held the scotch up to the light, admiring the color- dark amber, darker than he was used to.  It smelled sweet, notes of fruit and almond competing with something like chocolate, but there was an earthy, peat-like quality that kept it from being overwhelming.  It was probably a very, very expensive drink.

He drank it far more quickly than it deserved.

It didn’t really help, but some of the urgent edge of the restlessness faded.  He stood, and paced, and ran his fingertips along the spines of the books on the shelves, and it was decidedly unsatisfying; Duke had interesting books, some with leather bindings, some in standard hardcover, some paperbacks worn to the point where the spines were frayed.  There was _texture_ to them, and it was _frustrating_ to see it, and not experience it.  To know that this book, with a title in cyrillic characters, should be pebbled and soft under his touch, to know that that one, with a flowing gold leaf inlay, should be cool and silky, and to experience... nothing.  He could smell the leather and the particular sweet-dusty edge of paper exposed to water over time, binding glue and age, but they were exactly the same sitting on the shelves as they were in his hands.

His hands tightened around a battered paperback, and it gave a dull little thud as he creased the pages; he quickly let go and set it back down, growing more and more frustrated.  It was a thousand times worse than an itch he couldn’t scratch.

“Should you really have some of these books here?” he called, needing to talk, needing a distraction, needing a voice to remind him that he wasn’t completely disconnected.

“...On the bookshelf?  It is generally where I keep books,” Duke called back, sounding confused.

“On the boat,” Nathan clarified, picking up one that had obviously gotten soaked at one point.  “Some of them look old.  ...Expensive.”

“Some of them _are_ ,” Duke replied.  “But where else am I gonna keep them?  This is where I live.”

“You could get an apartment.”

“I like my boat,” Duke said, an edge creeping into his voice.  “I have more space for the price of tying up than I would anywhere else in town, all my stuff comes with me when I travel, it’s private and easily secured, and it’s _comfortable_.”  He paused, and added, “And it’s not like there aren’t risks on land.  We have more fires in this town than any three small counties should.”

“Suppose that’s fair,” Nathan agreed, mostly because he hadn’t meant to be critical.  He didn’t understand why Duke prefered the Rouge to an apartment, a house, but he’d never quite understood Duke.

“...I like being on the water,” Duke volunteered, after a moment.  “I didn’t think I would, you know my dad was big on the water, and I didn’t really want anything to do with him- but I do.  Everything’s clearer, here.  Everything’s simpler.”

“Didn’t think you much cared for simple.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I developed a taste for it.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Nathan said, faintly amused.  “Because I’m seeing books in four languages, a twenty five year old bottle of scotch with a name I can’t pronounce, and you’re cooking something that has at least three dishes and a dozen spices, and none of that says simple to me.”

“Because I like to read good books, drink good scotch, and eat good food?  What could be more simple than that?” Duke countered, and Nathan supposed he had a point there.  “And there’s at least five languages represented on those shelves, thank you.”

“When did you learn Russian?” Nathan asked, drawing his fingertip down the leather-bound book once more, wondering what it was called.  Wondering if it was something he’d heard of, something he’d read a translation of.

“When I was in Russia,” Duke replied.  “...That was the second year.”

That would have been Nathan’s first year actually working at the station.  It had been an awful summer, and thinking of Duke off having adventures, learning new languages and seeing places Nathan never would, while he’d been dealing with the truly banal work that there was for a small town uniform cop during tourist season left a sour taste on his tongue.

He didn’t think he’d ever truly forgive Duke for leaving.

He wasn’t sure Duke had ever forgiven him for staying.

“What’s it like?”

“...Cold.  Full of Russians.  Good vodka.”  There was a clatter, and a curse, and a brief burst of fragrant steam- laden with citrus and chili and something more subtle- escaped the kitchen.  “Not my favorite place.”

“Do you have a favorite place?” Nathan asked, and he shouldn’t, he shouldn’t let himself go down this path, because he was never getting out of this town.  He’d known that for years, and it was more real now than it had ever been.

“...No,” Duke replied, and there were shadows in his voice.  “No, I don’t think I do.”

“...Huh.”  It wasn’t much of a reply, but he didn’t want to ask, didn’t want to pull on those threads.  Duke probably wouldn’t appreciate it, and Nathan wasn’t interested in fighting.

“...Right, stop judging my book collection and come eat,” Duke said, after a long pause.  “I expect you to be properly awed, by the way.”

“I’m sure I will be,” Nathan replied, heading toward the kitchen, a little looser-limbed than he wanted to be.  The food smelled amazing, bright and spicy and fresh; plates were already set out on the bar, and it was colorful and beautifully arranged, deep purple rice under bright red peppers and rich greens surrounding perfectly seared steak, and it was a hell of a lot nicer than anything he’d seen at the Gull.

“You have a choice, a sweet, summer red with just a hint of raisin and bergamot, or a brisk white with notes of frost and a deep lemon finish,” Duke said, holding up two bottles of wine, one of which had clearly been chilling.  “The correct answer, if you care, is the red, but I’m leaving it up to you.”

“...The red,” Nathan said, because he was not going to argue this point, Duke clearly knew what he was doing.  “Not gonna tell you how to do your job, here.”

“Good choice, excellent choice, sit down, eat.  Seriously, a full meal this time.”  Duke turned to put the white wine back in a small wine cooler under the counter, and Nathan smiled faintly; he had a dishtowel tucked into his back pocket, and his hair was held back from his face by a faded bandana, and he looked satisfied, he looked _grounded_.

He looked good.

It was a startling thought, and an uncomfortable one, and Nathan turned his attention to the food, which was infinitely safer.  He sat down, and Duke placed a wineglass next to his plate, pouring the red wine with far too much professional flourish for a meal being served on a counter, and Duke was right, the bouquet from the wine was exactly right mixed with the smell of the food.

“This looks amazing,” Nathan said, and Duke paused, and for just a second, he looked startled, and Nathan wondered how they’d let things get so bad between them that it shocked Duke to get a well-earned compliment.

“Thanks,” he said, and he sat down across from Nathan.  The bar was really too narrow for it; their plates were slightly askew, and Nathan couldn’t feel it, but he was pretty sure their knees were knocking together under the counter, but he didn’t say anything, just picked up his fork and took a bite.

He was never mocking Duke’s skill in the kitchen again.

The food was substantially better than the food from the Gull.  Which, really, shouldn’t have been surprising; he knew that Duke couldn’t possibly prepare all of it, or even most of it, but somehow he’d just assumed that it’d be similar.  It wasn’t.  The flavors were complex and combined in ways that were unfamiliar to Nathan, and it was amazing.  He was overwhelmed; he could _drown_ in flavor like this.

“Try the wine,” Duke offered, and the creases at the corners of his eyes were deeper than usual, his fingers were rolling against the countertop in a smooth, restless wave.  He was _nervous_ , Nathan realized, and he wondered just what expression he was showing, if Duke could think he was anything other than fucking _impressed_.  Nathan reached for his wineglass, and took a sip, and yeah, it was as well-suited to the food as the fragrance had suggested.

“Where the hell did you learn how to do this?” Nathan asked, a little awed and a little disappointed that he hadn’t known about this particular skill before.  Duke relaxed, and his smile seemed genuine.

“Here and there.  Italy, France, Thailand...  Morocco, Brazil, Argentina, Spain.  Pakistan, India, Turkey...  I didn’t spend all the time I was gone smuggling- I worked a lot of places.  Cash under the table, mostly, but you can find a kitchen in need of a hand in pretty much any city you care to name.  Spend enough time that way, you learn some things.”  Duke took a sip of his wine, and started to eat.  Nathan took a few more bites, and mourned the fact that he couldn’t feel the texture of the food, because he was pretty sure it would be amazing.

“That why you kept the restaurant?” Nathan asked, genuinely curious.  He’d been completely surprised by that, by Duke accepting Bill’s offer to sell him the Second Chance Cafe.

“No,” Duke replied, shrugging.  “I kept the restaurant because Bill wanted me to.  Because losing Jeff sucked, and I didn’t want them to break their promise.  Because if Bill was gonna treat me like family, I owed it to him to do right by that.”

Nathan was pretty sure that nine months ago, he wouldn’t have believed a word of that.  Right now?  He believed it absolutely.

“This’s better’n the food at the Gull,” he said, struggling to find better words, words that would convey how overwhelmed he was, how _satisfying_ the food was, how complex.

“Uh, _yeah_ ,” Duke replied, giving Nathan a sharp look.  “You think I can serve the good stuff at the bar?  Haven isn’t ready for Thai-Spanish fusion.  Hell, people in this town actually eat at _Lobster Pup_.”

“Point,” Nathan yielded, because yeah, people probably weren’t ready for things like this.  “Still.  This’s... This is really something.”

“...Thanks,” Duke said, and looked away, and Nathan went back to focusing on his food.

It really was safer.

When the food was completely gone- and Nathan wasn’t sure when the last time he’d been able to eat a full meal was, but it had been a while- Duke headed to the couch with his laptop, and Nathan headed into the kitchen to wash the dishes, because it was only fair, and he needed something to do to occupy his hands.  Occupying his thoughts was harder, but he could at least put some of his energy into scrubbing, even if it couldn’t keep him from worrying.

He wondered, as he worked, if Audrey had ever gotten that meal she’d skipped, when she went with him to Camden instead of meeting Duke for dinner.  He didn’t know; she’d missed out, if she hadn’t, and he hated the way that thought curled around his mind, sinking claws into his insecurities and dragging them to the surface.  He hated that he was jealous of something that may never have happened.  He hated that he was jealous of what might happen, when it would no longer matter to him one way or the other.

The pot he was scrubbing slipped out of his hands, and clattered loudly off the edge of the sink and onto the floor.  He stared at it, angry and afraid and overwhelmed and weary, bone-tired in a way that had nothing to do with physical exhaustion, and his hands were shaking when he reached out to pick the pot back up.

Duke beat him to it, dark eyes narrow, expression cautious and concerned.

“You okay?” Duke asked, dropping the pot back into the sink, before his eyes dipped to Nathan’s hands.  He took in the trembling, lips curving down, and he sighed heavily.  “Also, you know there were gloves, right there?  You need to change that, now.”

Nathan blinked, confused, and Duke rolled his eyes and tapped his palm, and Nathan caught on.  The bandage, he was supposed to be keeping it dry.  He’d forgotten about it, without the uncomfortable texture of wet gauze to trigger a sense of concern.

“...Okay, Nate, seriously, talk to me here.  Are you okay?” Duke asked, and concern was starting to shift into worry, and Nathan didn’t know what to say.  He didn’t know how to say that he was terrified that they weren’t going to find Audrey, that he was terrified that even if they did, Duke would be right and Audrey would refuse to do what was necessary- that he was equally terrified that Duke was wrong, and she would, and it wouldn’t work, that he was terrified that it would all be for nothing, that he was terrified that it would be the right thing and life would go on without him.  That he couldn’t see a single way out that didn’t end bloody, and that he couldn’t allow anyone else to bleed for this.

His breath rattled in his lungs, in his ears, and the room was wobbling, and he was hyperventilating, that... that was what was happening, and he couldn’t get the words to form, to say he was fine, to say that he’d _be_ fine, and he could see the flash of panic, only visible for a second before Duke hid it away, pushed it down and smiled, and it was a smile so sharp it could cut, because Duke always smiled, when he was scared, when he was angry, when he was hurting, he always flashed that brutal grin, as if he could convince everyone around him that nothing was wrong if he just smiled wide enough.  But he was scared, Nathan could see it, and it was only making things worse, that Duke was scared _for him_ , because he hadn’t earned that.  He didn’t deserve that.

“Nathan.  Nate.  Nate, damnit!”  Duke was talking, the words clear and crisp, and Nathan’s head jerked back, and he could see- barely- that Duke had his hand on his chin, fingers digging in along his jaw, long enough to echo the curve of Nathan’s cheek.  “Look at me.  No, damnit, look at me- I need you to breathe, Nate.  I need you to take a deep breath, slowly...  I’m gonna count, okay, and you breathe in while I count, and then you hold it, alright?  Can you do that?”

Nathan might’ve nodded; he tried to, anyway, and Duke nodded back, eyes locked on Nathan’s, and the intensity in them was stunning.  Was breathtaking.

“Ready?  One.  Two.  Three.  Four.  Five.  Six.  Seven.  Eight.”

Nathan breathed in, tried to breathe in, must’ve managed something, because Duke kept nodding.

“Good, that’s good, now just hold.  No, keep holding, three, four, five- okay, now, slowly, exhale, count of four.  One, two, three, four.  In again, keep with it, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight- hold, good, that’s right, hold, okay.  Exhale.  Now hold.”

Nathan held, and there were spots in his vision, but they were fading.

“Okay, breathe, go ahead.  Keep counting in your head, inhale longer than you exhale, but keep it steady.”

Nathan did, and it was better, the panic ebbed away, the sound of his breathing leveled out.

“Okay.  Good.  Very good.  Better?”

“Yeah,” Nathan managed, and Duke nodded, and Nathan could see the tension in him, but none of it translated into his voice, into his expression.  “Sorry.”

“Again, with the apologizing,” Duke said, and he straightened up, and Nathan was surprised, because he didn’t remember winding up on his knees.  Duke reached down and pulled him back to his feet, and Nathan stumbled a bit before he found his balance.  “Come on, leave the dishes, you need a shower and a clean bandage.”

“I don’t-” Nathan started, and Duke cut him off with a raised brow.

“You do.  Trust me.”

“...Okay.”  And Nathan still wasn’t sure that any of that would help, but Duke was asking him to trust him, and he remembered, too clearly, the shock, the outrage, the _hurt_ he’d shown last night, how he’d pulled away like Nathan had taken another swing at him when he’d tried to tell him that he _did_.  That maybe it was stupid and dangerous, but he did.

He let Duke push him down the hall, and only cringed a little when the water in the shower turned on- and if he was going to stay here for any length of time, he was going to have to talk to Duke about the pipes, because that sound was going to drive him crazy- and waited patiently while Duke adjusted the water temperature, trying not to feel like Duke’s fussing was a general indictment of Nathan’s ability to manage basic tasks.

Of course, he had just failed so badly at washing the dishes that he’d nearly passed out, so maybe it was warranted.

Duke took a step back, and motioned to the shower, and Nathan hesitated.  He hadn’t, yesterday, but he’d still been processing, still hadn’t been entirely sure that Duke was real.  Duke looked expectant, then puzzled, then rolled his eyes dramatically and turned around, leaning up against the sink casually, and keeping his back turned.

Nathan stripped out of his borrowed things and stepped into the shower, and he hoped that the water was warm enough to relax his muscles, because he could guess that they were tense, and that he needed to relax.  Normally, he’d find the sound of the water soothing, but right now it was just irritating, particularly with the whistle from the pipes.  He caught his breathing speeding up again, and made an effort to check it-

“It’s a tie,” Duke said, and Nathan tilted his head, turning toward the sound of his voice.

“What?”

“You asked if I had a favorite place.  It’s a tie.  Fort Bragg, California, and Prince William Sound, Alaska.”

“Why?” Nathan asked, because it seemed odd, that of everywhere Duke had been, he’d pick domestic ones as his favorites.

“You think our coastline is amazing, you should see the coast of California,” Duke said, and the pitch of his voice was low, calm and contemplative, and Nathan could tell he wasn’t expecting an answer yet.  “Southern California, it’s pretty much what you expect, sandy beaches and rolling dunes, very Hollywood.  Go up the coast a way, though, and it changes.  You can watch it pick itself up, and climb; the cliffs get steeper and sharper, until the mountains are kissing the water.  And they go on like that for _miles_ , just... towering bluffs, interrupted by these little pockets of sandy beach, or rocky flats.  Really, most of northern California, pick any spot on the coast and it’s amazing.  The water’s cold- about the same as here, really- but it’s beautiful, every shade of pewter and gold and green.  You meet interesting people, in California.  I had one guy, I had anchored for the night off this little island, and this one guy, he came out to the Rouge in a kayak, just to say hello.”

Nathan listened, focusing on the easy way Duke was talking, the rhythm of his words, and reached for the shampoo, going through the motions.

“But Fort Bragg, it’s a little different.  Still gorgeous, absolutely amazing coast, but there’s this one beach.  It was basically a trash heap, people just dumped their junk, the city just dumped their junk.  And it could have been the same as a lot of places, just garbage, just a place people spoiled...  But this one beach, it’s all glass.  Sea glass, you know, it’s been pounded and scoured, and the whole beach just... glitters.  It’s like... the ocean took everything they threw into it, everything they threw away as useless and ugly and unwanted, and polished it, and changed it, and tossed it back on the shore.  Made it worth something, made it something special and unique.”

Nathan thought he could see why that would appeal to Duke, really.

“And Alaska...  Man, you have to see Alaska to believe it.  Furthest inland I’ve ever gone was in Alaska.  Took a trip up into Denali National Park, saw the mountain...  I don’t do inland, I really don’t, it’s...  I don’t like not being able to see the ocean, but I’d go back there.  I’d go back to Denali.”

“Why?”

“Because when you’re three days away from other people, and the sun is setting a sea of clouds on fire, and you can look out and see a valley painted every shade of red and gold and purple, and the air is clean and there are wolves howling in the distance, it’s possible to believe that maybe there is still some measure of peace to be found in this fucked up world.  I grew up in Haven, Nate, same as you.  I know how valuable a little bit of peace can be.”

Nathan turned off the water, and Duke turned, holding out a towel and keeping his eyes politely averted.  Nathan took the towel, wrapping it around his waist, and Duke glanced up, expression warm and concerned.

“Better?” he asked, and Nathan nodded, yielding the point that he did feel more relaxed after the shower.  “Good.  Now get rid of that bandage and let me fix it.”

“You really don’t have to do that,” Nathan said, starting to unwrap the waterlogged gauze.

“I know I don’t have to.  Doesn’t mean I’m not going to.”

It wasn’t worth fighting over.  It was just as difficult, just as intense, just as overwhelming to watch as it was before.  Duke was slightly more casual about it, this time, slightly less focused, but he was no less gentle, and no less precise.  And Nathan was no less wrecked by not being able to feel it.

He wished he could think of something to say to break the silence.

“Right.  C’mon, let’s get you changed.”  Duke stood up, and bustled Nathan into the bedroom, and Nathan wasn’t sure why he went, why he was letting Duke fuss like this, because it wasn’t necessary, and it would only make things more complicated.  But he went, and caught his duffel when Duke tossed it at him, and he found something reasonable that he could sleep in, and changed while Duke disappeared down the hall.

He was about to follow him out when Duke headed back in, and locked the hall door.

“I really can sleep on the couch.”

“Yeah, and that really is a terrible idea, trust me.  That couch is not built for anyone over five three, maybe five four, to sleep on comfortably.”  Duke gave him a casual shove in the direction of the far side of the bed, and headed to the closet, pausing long enough to strip and toss his clothes at the hamper there.  Nathan turned sharply away, and only relaxed when he realized that Duke was, at least, putting on a pair of boxers.  Duke headed to the near side of the bed, and flopped down with his usual easy grace, and Nathan was pretty sure that this should not be the long term solution, that it was ridiculous that they didn’t have a better plan than this, but he really didn’t have an alternative that wasn’t going to result in an argument.

Cautiously, feeling like he was breaking some rule he couldn’t put a name to, he went to the far side of the bed and lay down.  Duke stretched out to kill the light, and Nathan wished he’d had a bit more to drink.

“You think too damn much, Nate, always have,” Duke commented, and the blankets flipped up, landing neatly over Nathan’s chest.  “Go to sleep.”

“...Right,” Nathan replied, and he was pretty sure that wouldn’t be happening anytime soon.

Duke didn’t seem bothered; he moved around a bit, and then the sound of his breathing leveled out.  Nathan lay awake, staring at the darkness, and listened.


	19. Chapter 19

Duke had forgotten how restless a sleeper Nathan could be.  When they were kids, after Nathan’s mom had died, Duke would sneak over, sometimes, when he needed to be away from what passed for home, or when he’d seen that Nathan was having a bad day, and he’d crash in Nate’s room (more often than not, in Nate’s bed, tucked up against him, because Nathan was a damn furnace most of the time, and Duke had always, always craved some bit of that warmth), and he’d known that Nathan didn’t sleep easily.  That he moved, that he made noise, that his dreams were hardly peaceful.  As they’d gotten older, those sleepovers had gotten fewer and further between, and eventually, he’d ended up in the guest room more than Nate’s room, until he’d been banished from the place all together.  Until Nate had an apartment with a futon in the living room, and Duke had the Rouge, and the distance between them had its own, inexorable momentum.

True to form, Nathan wasn’t sleeping peacefully.  A choked little cry, desperate and afraid, pulled Duke completely awake, and he rolled toward Nathan without thinking, reaching out.  Nathan was twitching, twisting beneath the blankets, caught in the pull of some dream, some thought, and Duke put a hand on his shoulder, for all the good it would do.

“Hey,” he whispered, gently.  “Hey, Nate, it’s okay, you’re okay.”

Nathan rolled towards him, reaching, and Duke ached, low in his chest, because it was a pointless gesture, because Nathan couldn’t feel him, even when his hand locked around Duke’s arm, fingers digging in hard.  Duke couldn’t fathom that, being robbed of that sense of connection, the simple fucking necessity of physical contact- it’d always terrified him, had always horrified him.  He’d always suspected he’d lose it completely if he was ever in that position, had always doubted he could cope.

Had always picked at that one point, mocked and taunted, because he didn’t know how else to react, didn’t know how else to channel the fury he felt at the cosmic injustice Nathan had been dealt.

“It’s okay,” he said again, because Nathan couldn’t feel him, but he could hear him, and Duke would work with what he had.  “It’s okay, you’re not alone.”

Nathan shifted, still clinging, and Duke rolled, using Nathan’s unyielding grip to pull him closer, until Nathan was pressed up against Duke’s back.  Nathan grumbled at the movement, but very quickly tucked in around Duke, and how he managed to do that when he couldn’t feel anything, Duke would never understand, but whatever, it worked.  Nathan’s arm slipped around Duke’s waist, holding too tightly.

Nathan always held on too tight.

“It’s okay,” Duke repeated, feeling a blush sweep over his skin as Nathan _nuzzled_ him, and there was no other word for it, for the way that Nate pressed close and dragged his nose along the curve of Duke’s neck, breath warm and quick against his skin.  For the way he stayed like that, breathing slowing as he settled, as he gave a quiet little noise of contentment that made Duke’s pulse leap and his heart twist.  “Everything’s gonna be fine.”

Duke shifted, trying to get the blankets into a more comfortable position, and Nathan grumbled, grip tightening further, and moved, his legs tangling with Duke’s.  Duke gave up on the blankets.

He really didn’t need them, anyway.

 

He woke up with the early morning sun just slipping in the portholes, and Nathan still wrapped around him, still clinging like a limpet.  He let himself stay, for a moment, gave himself permission to pretend, for just a few seconds, that this was normal, that this was the way it was always going to be; he gave himself just a little while to enjoy his stolen warmth.

Then he reminded himself that he was not, in actual fact, a fifteen year old with a crush, and that Nathan was very decidedly in love with Audrey, and he would never be able to compete.

He carefully detangled his legs from Nate’s, and tried to slip out from beneath his arm; Nathan made an annoyed sound and squeezed, pulling Duke back into place.  Duke froze, not sure if Nathan was actually awake, or if he was still sleeping.  Nathan rubbed his nose over the back of Duke’s neck, and yeah, no, he had to still be asleep, that was- that was definitely not a thing Nathan would be doing if he had any idea he was actually doing it, and Duke wanted to be a decent distance away before Nathan woke up and _realized_ he was doing it, because it was too early in the morning to deal with the freak-out that would likely follow.

Which would be a little easier if Nate weren’t holding on to him like he was the last solid ground he had.

Duke made a second attempt, trying to pry himself out of Nate’s grip, and Nathan grumbled again, hold tightening still further- and seriously, at some point, breathing was going to become a problem- before he made a questioning sound and ducked his head, one cheek pressing hard against the flat of Duke’s shoulderblade.

“Duke?”

So much for getting loose before Nate woke up.

“Morning, sunshine,” Duke said, and he could _feel_ Nathan blink, could feel the soft movement of his eyelashes against his skin, and he desperately needed to be somewhere else right now.

“What...”  Nathan shifted, his iron grip relaxing, and Duke took the opportunity to get a full breath and few inches of space, enough so that he could lean back enough to look over his shoulder.  Nathan looked adorably confused, hair sticking up in all directions, brow furrowed, and Duke had to make an extreme effort not to smile.  “What’s going on?”

“I was trying to get up without waking you,” Duke said, shrugging.  “Didn’t manage it, apparently.”

“Oh.  Okay.”  Nathan blinked, frowned, and looked more seriously at the bed, and at Duke, sitting up to look at the expanse of bed behind him.  “Did I...?”

Duke couldn’t keep a crooked smile down, this time.

“Yeah, you never were any good about keeping to your side.”  And never mind that Duke had encouraged that.  Nathan looked uncomfortable, looked like he was about to speak, and Duke interrupted before he could start.  “You say you’re sorry again and I’m gonna throw a punch, just so you know, and it’s too early in the morning for that.  If I had a problem with it, I’d say so.”

Nathan blinked again, and stayed quiet, and Duke considered that a victory.  

“You awake for real, or you need a bit more time?” Duke asked, and Nathan looked way, way too serious as he considered that question.

“I’m awake,” he said finally, and Duke barely smothered a laugh, because he obviously wasn’t, if it had taken him that long to come to that conclusion.  But fine, if he wanted to play it that way, Duke wasn’t going to argue.

“Fine.  Go, do what you need to do.  I’ll make breakfast after I have a chance to shower.”

“Okay.”  Nathan worked his way back across the bed, to the other side, and headed for the bathroom, and Duke flopped back down onto his pillow.

It was very, very difficult to remember that he was not supposed to be getting used to this.

 

Duke may have lingered a little too long in the shower, given that when he stepped out into the kitchen, Nathan was busily preparing food.  There was bacon sizzling on a griddle Duke was pretty sure he’d never seen before, there were eggs starting to smoke in a frying pan, a pile of toast on a plate that was slowly melting under the weight of the butter sitting in the center of it, and something that might have been apples, at one point, that had been peeled and cubed and set to one side.

He was going to have to set some ground rules about the kitchen, clearly.

“I thought I said I’d make breakfast?” he asked, and Nathan turned around with a shrug.

“You cooked dinner.”

“Yes, this is true, but I have never seen you display even the slightest enthusiasm toward the idea of cooking,” Duke said, going to rescue the eggs before they were rendered inedible.

“I can cook.”

“Well, yes, you survived college, I assume you have the basic skills-” though Duke wasn’t entirely convinced of that, given the state of the eggs- “but there’s ‘can cook’, and there’s ‘enjoys cooking’, and they are very different things.”

“I can cook,” Nathan repeated, mulish, and he caught the spatula out of Duke’s hand, pushing the eggs around a bit.  “Not letting you do all the work, here.”

“...” There didn’t seem to be a good answer to that, and Duke decided that, on balance, Nathan being thoughtful was probably worth encouraging, even if it was coming in a form Duke wasn’t sure he approved of.  “Okay.  Alright.  Thank you.”

Nathan immediately looked suspicious, and Duke sighed.  There was no way to win, here, apparently.

“Just... mind your hands, the bacon’s spattering.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t think you and I have the same definition of ‘fine’,” Duke said, heading for a stool.  “So, did we get any papers yesterday?  I don’t think I saw any papers yesterday, I’m going to have to fix all of my subscriptions.”

“How many newspapers do you get?”

“Six.”

“Every day?”

“No, four are weekly, but I should have gotten two yesterday.”

“Does that include the Haven Herald?”

“No, I saw the Herald.  Planning to burn it later.”

“That’s a little much, don’t you think?”

“Nope.”

“Petty,” Nathan chided, and Duke laughed, a hint of bitterness creeping into the sound.

“I think I have cause,” he said, and Nathan shrugged.

“Not saying you don’t.  Still.”  Nathan put the eggs on plates, and started dividing out the butter-drenched toast; he added the bacon with something resembling a flourish, and grabbed the apple slices as well.  “Eat, I want to get to the station.  I need to make some calls.”

“And won’t that be fun,” Duke said, sighing, and he started assembling a sandwich out of his breakfast.

“Should we stop by the Gull first, pick up Jennifer?”

“Yeah, probably.”  At least Duke would have some company while Nathan was working, and maybe they’d get lucky and she’d hear something.

“You gonna stick around?” Nathan asked, voice carefully neutral, and Duke looked up, because honestly, it hadn’t even occurred to him to find somewhere else to be.

“Yeah.  Yeah, I’m gonna stick around.”

“Okay.”  Nathan looked relieved, and Duke turned his attention to his food, not sure how else to deal with that.  Not sure how to wrap his head around this awkward interim place where Nathan wanted him around, where he was determined to share chores, where he calmed at Duke’s voice and Duke’s words and Duke’s presence.

He was so used to the opposite.

He wished he could afford to pretend it wouldn’t all go to shit the minute they found Audrey.

His appetite died, his stomach twisting at the thought.  There was no way to win.  If they found Audrey, he lost Nathan, one way or another.  If they didn’t, he lost Audrey, and probably lost Nathan anyway, eventually.

Never mind that neither one of them was his to have.

“Duke?”

Duke glanced up, pulled out of his rapidly souring introspection, and Nathan was watching him, brow furrowed, eyes worried.

“Yeah?”

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Duke replied, flashing an easy smile, and Nathan didn’t believe him, but he didn’t pursue it, didn’t call him out on it.

“Alright.  Seriously, eat.  It may not be any kind of fusion, but you do need to eat.”

“I’m eating,” Duke said, and took a bite, and it was better than he’d expected- simple, but solid.  Dependable fare.

“Uh huh.”

“No, look, I’m eating.  It’s good.”

“I told you I could cook.”

“You made eggs and toast.”

“And bacon.”

“...Fine, yes, and bacon,” Duke yielded, and Nathan gave him an uncertain smile, small and vulnerable, and Duke could see, for just a second, the kid he’d grown up with.  Awkward and shy and distant, bad at people and good at homework and Duke’s one real port in the storm.

Fuck it.  Duke was going to pretend, was going to pretend for all he was worth.  It’d kill him, when it all came crashing down, but it’d be worth it.

Duke smiled back, and shook his head.  “Remind me later to show you a few tricks.  Can’t having you make dorm food forever.”

“Okay,” Nathan said, smile becoming something a little bit more solid.

Yeah.  Definitely worth it.

 

Jennifer wasn’t thrilled about the early wakeup, but she perked up when she heard they were headed to the station.  Duke wasn’t sure if that amused him or horrified him, and Nathan laughed at him when he said as much while Jennifer got ready.

They stopped for coffee, and got to the station just after the shift change, and Duke was uncomfortable with how comfortable it felt to walk through those doors.  He was not supposed to like this place.  He had a lot of reason to hate it.  And despite that, some part of Duke relaxed when they reached Nathan’s office, even if the sight of Audrey’s desk stung.

“You two go ahead and get comfortable, I need to call around, see if anyone’s heard anything that might give us someplace to start,” Nathan said, and Duke dropped gracelessly into one of the visitor’s chairs in front of Audrey’s desk, because that was what he did, that was where he placed himself in this room, even if it hurt.  Jennifer looked a little hesitant, but she sat down in a chair by the door, and rooted through the bag she’d brought with her, taking out a book.  Duke wished he’d thought of that, because he was going to be bored out of his mind in about ten minutes.

Except Stan knocked on the door, and poked his head inside.

“Morning, Detective, morning, Duke, morning, Jennifer,” he said, and Duke flashed a smile in his direction, because hey, Stan was okay, and right now, anybody greeting Nathan with actual enthusiasm was pretty high on Duke’s list of tolerable people.  Particularly when he was also greeting Jennifer with enthusiasm.

“Mornin’, Stan,” Nathan said, managing a smile.  “Need somethin’?”

“I was hoping I could borrow Duke,” Stan said, and Duke blinked, because he was, for starters, not a stapler or a file folder, he was not there to be loaned out, and also because _what_?

“Yeah, go ahead,” Nathan said, and Duke transferred his vaguely shocked look to Nathan.  Nathan shrugged, not looking particularly worried about Duke’s dismay, and Duke was going to find a creative way to get back at him for this later.

“What can I do for you, Stan?” he asked, putting on a winning smile, because maybe he wasn’t keen on being _loaned out_ , but he could still be charming and helpful and excellent company.

“I have some paperwork I need you to go over,” Stan said, and Duke perked up, genuinely interested now, because right, Nathan had said Stan was going to look into what he needed to do in order to be, y’know, legally alive.

“Awesome,” Duke said, and he clearly sounded far too enthusiastic about the idea of paperwork, because both Jennifer and Nathan gave him concerned looks.  Stan just smiled, like it was totally normal to be excited about paperwork.  Duke got to his feet, and stole a pen off of Audrey’s desk, tucking it into his shirt pocket, and he gave Stan an ironic little bow.  “Lead the way.”

“Stay out of trouble,” Nathan instructed, and he was smiling, but there was a note of concern just barely there in his voice.

“I promise I won’t sneak out the back for a cigarette,” Duke replied, rolling his eyes, but he was pretty sure that Nate would get the message.  Duke wasn’t going anywhere without him.

“Keep him out of the files,” Nathan said, giving Stan a stern look, and Stan nodded back seriously.

“Sure thing, Detective.”  Stan nodded in the direction of the hallway, and Duke fell into step beside him, following him out to his desk.  There were two different folders, one of which looked very formal, waiting.  “So, Duke- I’ve got a few things for you to sign, regarding the whole death certificate thing, a challenge to the results of probate regarding the Grey Gull and the Cape Rouge, a few other things, but since I’ve got you here, I should probably also get your statement regarding the incident the other night.”  Stan sat down, and motioned to a chair, and Duke got settled.

“...Yeah, I can do that.  You guys have any idea who it was?” he asked, and Stan frowned, leaning forward over his desk.

“The Chief said that Detective Wuornos didn’t want to be involved in the investigation, that it was too much of a conflict of interest,” he said, voice low, and Duke mirrored him, leaning in and keeping quiet.

“Nate’s probably right about that, but Nate’s not the one who got shot,” Duke replied, giving a little bit of a shrug.  “And the thing is, I can’t protect him if I don’t know what’s happening.”

“We don’t know anything for sure yet,” Stan said, after a moment, and Duke nodded encouragingly.  “But I overheard the Chief talking to Vince Teagues, and Vince said he might have a few names.  The Chief asked if Jordan McKee had anything to do with it, and Vince told him he knew for sure it wasn’t Jordan, that he had someone reliable with her at the time.”

Damnit.  Duke had almost hoped it was Jordan, if only because it would mean there were fewer people he needed to keep track of.

“Thanks,” he said, meaning it, because he knew damn well that Stan didn’t actually have to tell him anything.

“Hey, I’m worried about the Detective, too.  If there’s something I can do to help...”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Duke said, and he would.  Having one of the uniforms on his side might be very useful, when it came right down to it.  “For now, I’m making Nate stay out on the Rouge- she’s defensible, and nobody knows her layout better than I do.”

“Good,” Stan said, and he sounded like he meant it.  “I have to tell you, things have been... pretty rough since he left.  Haven’s tearing itself apart.  Getting you two back-”

“Hey, Nate’s the helpful one,” Duke interrupted, smiling, trying to deflect.  “I’m not part of this equation.”

“Oh, come on, Duke, everybody knows you help,” Stan said, looking amused.  “Hell, Chief Hendrickson said we have better odds with you here than we’d ever have without, and getting him to express any sort of optimism is like pulling teeth.”

“...”  Duke didn’t know how to respond to that.  It scared the shit out of him, honestly, sent a crawling icy prickle over his scalp and down his spine, because no.  No, these people should not be looking at him as part of the solution, as part of anybody’s better odds, they should not trust him to do the right thing, because he wouldn’t.  He didn’t know how.

He felt trapped, suddenly, pressure building up in his chest and behind his eyes, the walls too close and too many eyes, too many _cops_ , and what the hell was he doing?  What the _hell_ was he doing, sitting across the desk from a uniform, in a police station, pretending he was one of the good guys?  Pretending he wasn’t the guy to make the expedient call, the selfish call, the _wrong_ call?

Duke did what he had to do to survive, to protect what was _his_ , to make sure he came out ahead.

He didn’t want to be anybody’s better odds.

Some measure of his mounting panic must have shown in his expression, because Stan cleared his throat, and opened one of the folders.

“Anyway,” he said, and Duke tried to focus on what was in front of him.  He could have an existential crisis about his place in the world and the fact that people kept _putting faith in him_ when it was a provably bad idea later; right now, he needed to do paperwork.

Life was funny like that.

“If you could just sign these four things,” Stan continued, and Duke signed the papers without bothering to read them, scrawling his signature with the pen he’d grabbed from Audrey’s desk.  There was a tiny smear of lipstick on the cap, a soft shade of pink that washed out against the blue.  His signatures ended up a little on the wobbly side.

“Can I do that whole witness-statement thing later?” Duke asked, because he needed to move, needed to either get out of the station or get back to the relative security of Nathan’s office, and he was about fifty-fifty on which was more likely.

“Sure, yeah, that’s not a problem,” Stan said, shrugging, looking concerned.  “Just make sure you do give one, though, in case we’re allowed to arrest somebody.”

“Right,” Duke said, with a slight laugh.  “Will do.”

“Glad you’re okay,” Stan added, and Duke stood up a little too quickly.

“Thanks.  And- seriously, thanks, for this.  The paperwork, I mean.  I owe you one.”

“Anytime,” Stan replied, and Duke beat a hasty retreat, wavering for a second too long between _outside_ and the freedom it promised, and _inside_ and being where Nate was.

Nate won, but it was a very near measure.

Duke ducked back in the door and closed it behind him, and Nate glanced up, phone cradled against his ear as he took notes.  Jennifer was curled up exactly where he’d left her, reading.  Nate frowned, expression registering concern, but he finished his phonecall and completed his notes before he spoke.

“Done already?”

“Just needed to sign some things,” Duke replied, pacing the length of the small room.

“You okay?”

“Fine,” he said, and Nathan set his pen down, and leaned back in his seat, and Duke heaved a sigh.  “I’m fine, it’s just- being here.  Not my favorite place in the world.”

“Well, we can’t all be Pacific Ocean adjacent,” Nate replied, calmly, and it startled a laugh out of Duke.  He ran his hands through his hair, and Nathan watched, waiting.

“Yeah, well.”  Duke took a breath, and tried to settle himself.  “I’m fine,” he repeated, grabbing one of the chairs and pulling it over to the window.

“Stan say something to upset you?” Nathan asked, and he sounded like he was having trouble believing that was possible, and seriously, Duke could understand that, because Stan was a little on the relentlessly cheerful side.

“No,” Duke lied, and Nathan nodded, and it was amazing to Duke how effectively Nathan could convey the concept that he was completely not buying anything Duke was selling with just a nod.  “Not exactly, can we just- can we not do this here?”

“Fine,” Nathan said, shrugging.  He reached for his phone again, and paused.  “Open the window, would you?  It’s warm in here.”

“Yeah, sure,” Duke said, without thinking about it, and it wasn’t until he’d opened the window and felt a hint of breeze that he realized Nathan hadn’t even bothered coming up with a believable excuse.

“You bastard,” he commented, and Nathan just raised his eyebrows, motioning to the phone he was holding.  “Yeah, fine,” he grumbled, and dropped down into the chair he’d moved, and made himself focus on the breeze.  It carried a trace of salt, and if he focused, he could just barely hear the surf.

It wasn’t the deck of the Rouge, but he could still meditate.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because it wouldn't be Haven without a few oddball Troubles cropping up.
> 
> You all are wonderful, thank you so much for reading, and for all your kind words.

Nathan wasn’t getting anywhere.  None of the calls he’d made so far were panning out, and he was starting to feel restless, helpless and angry and afraid, because he didn’t have the right tools for the job at hand.  Worse, Jennifer looked bored and Duke had settled down, slightly, but his discomfort was still palpable, a tension in the air that Nathan couldn’t avoid noticing, and they were only here because this was the only way Nathan had to contribute.  This clearly wasn’t working, and Nathan didn’t know what else to do.  He didn’t know how else to approach things.

“Alright, come on, we’re going out,” he said, finally, and he felt like a heel when both Jennifer and Duke sprang to their feet like kids who’d been released from time-out.

“Fantastic.  Where are we going?” Duke asked, and Nathan held up a folder.

“Looking into a possible Trouble moving through town.  We’ve got three reports of unexplained damage to lawns.”

“...I wasn’t _that_ bored,” Duke said, looking unimpressed.

“I was,” Jennifer said, giving Nathan a grateful look.  “I am totally up for investigating unexplained lawn damage.”

“Seriously, a possible Trouble, though?” Duke asked, still decidedly unimpressed.  “Unexplained damage to lawns isn’t a Trouble, it’s a high school kid with too much free time and a bad attitude.”

“Fine, you stay here and don’t touch anything.  Jennifer and I are going to go follow some leads.”  Nathan gathered up a few things, trying not to smile as Duke went through his entire repertoire of indignant expressions.

“I- what- that is just hurtful, Nathan,” he said, settling on a wounded pout.

“Then stop whining,” Nathan replied, walking around his desk and clapping a hand on Duke’s shoulder, catching hold and pulling him along.  Jennifer skipped ahead, and was the first out the door- and consequently, was the one to run straight into Dwight.  She stumbled, and Dwight reached out and steadied her, looking flustered and caught off guard, two things Nathan wasn’t used to seeing from Dwight.

“You okay?” he asked, sounding far more intense about it than a not-actual-fall really needed.

“Oh!  Yes, no, I’m, I’m fine, I’m good,” Jennifer replied, and she smiled brightly.  “Thanks.  For, y’know, catching me.  And sorry.  For- for running into you.  Not that I’m not glad to have run into you, in the more general sense, just, y’know, the physically crashing part and why is no one stopping me from talking yet?”

“It’s not polite to interrupt people,” Duke replied, puckish and grinning.

“You are supposed to have my back here, buddy,” Jennifer said, giving Duke a frown.

“I don’t think Dwight has a problem with you babbling,” Duke countered, looking downright wicked in his amusement.

“I don’t,” Dwight said, and Nathan was going to have to talk to him later, give him a few pointers on how to _not_ encourage Duke when Duke was in this mood, because there was no winning here, there was only holding in long enough for a strategic retreat, and Dwight already looked slightly pink.  “I mean- good morning.  Afternoon.  You three going somewhere?”

It wasn’t a bad save, if a bit lacking in subtlety.

“Nathan said we were going to go investigate a possible Trouble,” Jennifer piped up, and Dwight’s expression became far more serious.  The look he directed at Nathan was decidedly critical, in point of fact.

“You plan on bringing a civilian out with you to investigate a Trouble?”

“Hey,” Duke said, spreading his hands, looking indignant.  “‘A’ civilian?  Singular?”

“You don’t count,” Dwight replied, and Duke gasped, as though deeply offended.

“I- this is- I am outraged, here,” he said, and Nathan slid his hand from Duke’s shoulder to the back of his neck, and shook him just slightly.

“Enough,” he said, and Duke pouted at him, but stopped talking.  “It seems like a relatively benign situation, sir, I didn’t think it’d be too risky.”

“Damaged lawns,” Jennifer interjected, eyes wide.  “Duke’s not sure it’s actually even a Trouble.”

“Oh, it’s a Trouble, all right,” Dwight replied, and frowned.  “Damaged is slightly understating the case.”

“File didn’t have much,” Nathan pointed out, because to be fair, he couldn’t be expected to know there might be a real risk if nobody actually wrote down that there was a real risk.

“Yeah, I know, but I checked out the third one myself.  The yards aren’t so much _damaged_ as... walking away.”

“...What?” Jennifer asked, eyebrows raising.

“Okay, that sounds more like a Trouble,” Duke said, looking a little more serious and a little less amused.

“Caterpillars.  Lots and lots of caterpillars.  And it’s not a natural boom, it’s not like the tent moths a few years back.  The grass is literally turning into caterpillars.”

“Okay, I changed my mind, I think I’d rather stay here,” Jennifer said, and she shook herself, as though there was a chance there were caterpillars somehow present now.

“I... wow.  I don’t even know what to think about that,” Duke commented.

“So it’s a Trouble,” Nathan said.  “I’ll go check it out.  Jennifer, are you sure you want to stay here?  I could ask Stan to drive you back to the Gull-”

“Oh, no, it’s fine, I’m sure I can find something to do,” she said, and smiled hopefully at Dwight.

“...Right,” Nathan said, and nodded quickly at his boss, turning Duke toward the door before he could comment.  “We’re just gonna go, then.  See you later, Jennifer.”

“Check in regularly, please, Detective,” Dwight said, sounding slightly put-upon, “I want to know about it if anybody makes trouble.”

“We’ll keep you in the loop,” Nathan agreed, and Duke muttered something under his breath about being perfectly able to handle themselves.  “Enough, it isn’t unreasonable for him to want us to check in,” Nathan chided, as they headed for the Bronco.

“I am still not a damn cop,” Duke said, as though that in any way related to what Nathan had said, and Nathan frowned, trying to make the connection.

“Is this about whatever Stan said that set you off, earlier?”

“...No.”

“Can we skip the part where you lie to me in a terribly obvious fashion and get to where you tell me what’s bothering you?” Nathan asked, pausing with his hand on the driver’s side door.

“How about we just skip to the part where we go deal with whoever is turning grass into bugs?” Duke countered, leaning against the passenger door, and it was sharp, it was flippant.  His tone got Nathan’s hackles up, and he almost responded-

-except that it was clearly meant to, it was meant to provoke, and Nathan didn’t understand why.  Didn’t understand why suddenly, now, Duke was trying to start a fight, when they’d actually been doing okay.

“Duke.  I can’t help if you won’t talk to me.”  He kept his voice carefully level, and he saw the brief flicker of _fear_ in Duke’s eyes when he did, when he didn’t rise to the bait.  Nathan’s eyes narrowed, and he tilted his head, pleased that he’d guessed right, and irked that Duke was apparently still hell-bent on keeping secrets.  Dismayed that Duke still felt like he had to.

But it had been _months_ for Nathan, and it had been less than three days for Duke, and maybe he was expecting too much for Duke to understand how _everything_ had changed.

“...Sorry,” Duke said, and the word was awkward, bitter and strangely-shaped, and Nathan wondered if Duke heard it the same way when he said it, if it was just as confusing and uncomfortable.  If it was, Nathan could understand why he’d already grown tired of it.  “Just... thinking.”

“Because Dwight’s treating you like you’re a cop.”

“I’m not like you, Nate.  I’m not in this to help save the town.  I’m in this to get Audrey back.  I’m in this to protect you.  I don’t want people thinking I’m some kind of good guy.”

“I don’t understand you, Duke,” Nathan said, shaking his head, frustration welling up.  “You spend _months_ trying to convince everyone that you _are_ one of the good guys.  That we can trust you, that you’re not a threat, that you’re part of the team.  Now, when everyone is treating you like you’re part of the team, like you’re one of the good guys, you want them to stop.  You want them to distrust you.   _Why_?”

Duke hesitated, and Nathan could see his fists clench where they rested against the Bronco’s frame, could see the flare of alarm- the sense of _exposure_ \- and for a second, he actually thought Duke was going to break and run.  Was going to _bolt_ , he looked that fraught.

“Please, Duke.  Just talk to me,” Nathan said, and Duke flinched away from the ‘please’, but he held his ground, didn’t turn away, didn’t retreat.  Didn’t say anything, but didn’t retreat.  “...Please.”

Duke let out a breath, and it hissed between his teeth, he shifted and sidestepped, and Nathan knew this dance, knew that Duke had already given up, he just wasn’t ready to admit it yet, so Nathan opened the door, slid into the truck, and waited for Duke to finish.  Duke was probably more likely to talk once they were in the truck, anyway- it offered at least some semblance of privacy.

“You know, you really suck sometimes,” Duke said a moment later, pulling his door shut behind him with more force than necessary.  Nathan just waited, expression as neutral as he could make it.  “Because it was never about them!” Duke finally burst out, and Nathan tilted his head, listening.  “It was never about what anybody else thought of me, Nate, it was always- I don’t...”

“You said that you trusted yourself to make the right call when it came to me or Audrey.  That working with us was okay, because you knew you’d have our backs.”

“Yes.”

“When you said you’d make the right call, you didn’t mean objectively,” Nathan guessed, and Duke smiled, dark and bitter and _exposed_.

“Right in one,” Duke replied, and looked away, folded in around himself.  Braced for an impact, for an attack.

“I trust you to make the right call, Duke.  Even if you don’t trust yourself.”

“Since _when_ , Nathan?” Duke asked, and the question was harsh, but Nathan could hear the hurt there, the fear.  “And _why_?  Seriously, why, I have _never_ been that guy, Nate.”

“Because so far, you’ve made the right call more often than I have,” Nathan said, struggling to find the right words, to find the phrasing that wouldn’t chase Duke away.  “Because so far, what I can see?  Says you’ll keep making the right call, when I don’t.”

“Nathan.  Do not ask me to be the moral compass in this relationship.  We will end up too far out to sea to get back.”

“You always find your way back.  You always come home, Duke.”

“No.  I don’t come _home_.”  Duke laughed, shook his head, and Nathan saw something, some shift in expression, that left him breathless and wary, as if he stood on the very edge of the bluff above the water, and the ground was moving.  “I don’t come home, Nathan.”

“Then why-”

“I always come back to _you_.”  Duke was still smiling, but there was no joy in that expression, it was brittle and defensive and bitter, and Nathan had no idea what to say.  Had no idea how to cope with that kind of statement.

“I’ve never given you a reason to,” Nathan said, finally, and it was true.  He’d never once given Duke a reason to come back for him, had given him reason after reason to leave.

“I didn’t need you to.”

That much loyalty, that kind of conviction, and Duke still didn’t think he was good.

Nathan was starting to think that destroying the Barn might actually be one of his lesser errors, on the whole.

“I trust you,” Nathan said, quietly, putting as much conviction in the words as he could.  “I trust you to find your way back.”

Duke turned away, hiding his expression, but he couldn’t hide the set of his shoulders, the confused, anxious way he held himself, like he had absolutely no idea what to do next.

Nathan didn’t know either, but the only way through was forward.

“Come on.  I’ve still got a job to do, and I could use your help.”

“...Yeah.  Let’s go.”

The atmosphere in the truck didn’t exactly _lighten_ , but it eased, Duke shifting so that he wasn’t so determinedly facing the door, and Nathan turned the key in the ignition, and they headed out.  The silence stretched, but it didn’t fester.

“Nate?”

“Yeah?”

“I didn’t invite you out as a cover.  I just didn’t think it through when the coast guard showed up.”

“Okay.”

Nathan believed him.  Years too late to undo the damage, maybe, but Nathan believed him.  Duke looked suspicious, for a moment, before he settled more easily into his seat.  Nathan wished he had more damn time, wished he would have the chance to actually try and fix things.  To actually repair the longest running relationship he had left.

But maybe it was better this way.  A little bit of healing, some good memories, and not a lot of time to fuck it all up again.

It was funny, the things that started to look like silver linings.

 

They didn’t find a Troubled person.  They did find three neighborhoods that were absolutely full of caterpillars, and several very sorry trees that had been all but gnawed bare by the little green pests.  Nathan talked to the homeowners, the neighbors, the gardeners- Duke stood at his shoulder, closer than necessary, and was alternately charming and threatening, depending on the attitude of the person Nathan was interviewing.

“Well, that was fascinating,” Duke said, leaning against the window, sprawled out over the bench seat of the Bronco, taking up a remarkable amount of space.  Nathan had always been puzzled by that; he and Duke were technically almost precisely the same height, but Duke could easily occupy double the space Nathan did.

“Other than the obvious ecological issue, it doesn’t exactly seem threatening,” Nathan replied, frowning.  “Wonder if we should send out a burn team for those trees, though.”

“Any idea what kind of caterpillars we’re dealing with?”

“No.  Hopefully, they’re native, or we’ll have a different problem if they survive to breed.”

“See, now, this is the sort of Trouble I can get behind.  A few people have to replace their turf, we have a pressing question of ‘do we give a shit about these bugs’, and that’s it.  Nobody gets hurt.”

“That we know of,” Nathan pointed out, because it seemed too early to determine whether or not this was actually harmless.

“...You are really taking that killjoy thing seriously, aren’t you.”

“Hey, you made it official, I’m just running with it.”

“I regret that.”

“No you don’t.”

“Yeah, no, I don’t.”  Duke smiled, lazy and relaxed, and Nate shook his head, amused.

Which was about when something slammed into the side of the Bronco, sending it into a skid.

Nathan yanked on the wheel, trying to control the spin, and Duke cursed a blue streak, braced against every possible surface, and they rolled to a stop a few yards down the road.  The rear passenger side window was shattered, glass spread throughout the bed, and Nathan killed the engine, scrambling to get out of his seatbelt.

“The _fuck_ was that?” Duke demanded, looking around wildly, and Nathan just shook his head; he hadn’t seen anything, had no idea-

-something long and low and awful slithered past his door on dozens and dozens of legs, and Nathan froze, door open barely an inch.  A round head stretched up, and Nathan jerked back, pulling the door shut with as much force as he could, and Duke was staring at him, obviously concerned, but there was no way he could have seen it from his angle.

“We have a problem,” Nathan said.

“What problem?”

“I think we just got hit by a millipede.”

“...You think we just got _hit_ by a millipede.  ...Large enough to knock your truck into a spin.”

“Yep.”

“...Oh, goody.  So you’re going to radio for backup now, right?”

“Yep.”  Nathan reached for the radio, and there was a scrabbling noise, and the millipede crawled up onto the hood, and Duke _yelped_ , and if the situation weren’t so immensely unsettling, it’d be funny.  “Laverne, this is Nathan, do you read?” he asked, and Laverne came back quickly.

“Nathan, sweetie, what can I do for you?”

“We’re on Old Pine Road, between Wicker Street and McLadden, and we’ve got a bit of a bug problem.”

“A bug problem?”

“We could use some backup.  With shotguns.”

“...” The moment of silence was telling, but Laverne finally came back with, “Okay, honey, I’ll send some uniforms your way.”

“Faster would be better,” Nathan added, as too many little feet tapped against the windshield.

“You got it, baby.”

“You know, that is deeply unsettling,” Duke observed, teeth bared in a completely panicked grin, and Nathan wasn’t sure if he meant the petnames, or the oversized arthropod.

“Tell me you’re armed,” Nathan said, rather than ask about the distinction.

“Not sure how much good it’s gonna do, but yeah,” Duke replied, drawing a handgun from his waistband.

“It’s eleven more bullets,” Nathan said, and drew his own weapon.  “Don’t think it can get through the glass...”

“How lucky for it that it _broke a damn window_ , then,” Duke replied, twisting so that he could get a line on the back window.

“Maybe it’s not hungry,” Nathan said, trying to remember what the hell millipedes ate.

“Is it poisonous?” Duke asked, as oversized mouthparts clicked against the top of the windshield.

“...No,” Nathan said, and he was fairly sure of that.  “No, not poisonous.  But at this size, it’s probably best not to get bit either way.”

“Right,” Duke said.  “I fucking hate this town.”

“Not such a harmless Trouble after all,” Nathan replied.  Because it had to be linked, the caterpillars and the millipede, they had to be connected.  The odds of _two_ bug-related Troubles triggering at the same time-

-he really hoped they were related.  He didn't like the alternative at all.

The millipede’s head disappeared onto the roof, and for a long moment, there was only the repetitive ripple of feet and legs visible on the windshield, an impossible, unending movement that seemed to stay still.

Then the head dropped down, exploring the edge of the window, and Nathan fired, Duke following suit a half-second later, and the sound dropped out of Nathan’s world.  He hated that, hated the moments of deafness that followed a gunshot, hated how helpless and exposed it made him feel, but he kept his attention on the squirming, oozing bug.  It was missing most of its head, but its legs were still flailing, and Nathan had no idea if destroying the head would be enough to kill it.

Duke was talking, but Nathan couldn’t hear him, so he ignored it, watching, watching...  The millipede slipped sideways, slid down off the roof, off the hood, and disappeared from sight.

“...ucking _bugs_ , this is why I like the goddamn ocean, all the creepy shit stays out of sight,” Duke was rambling, and Nathan shook his head, trying to clear it.

“Okay?” he asked, and Duke glanced at him.

“Yeah, fucking peachy, you?”

“Think we killed it.”

“We’d _better_ have fucking killed it,” Duke said, and there was a long pause.

“Think we should check?”

“I think you should just run it over.”

“Not sure I want to test how hard that shell is,” Nathan replied.

“You’re really going to make us get out of the car, aren’t you.”

“Think we have to.”

“You really suck.”

“Look, just- cover me,” Nathan said, and opened his door, and Duke cursed and scrambled to try and find a decent line of fire.  There really wasn’t one, not without rolling down the window- which he did, still cursing.  Nathan stepped outside, and the millipede was still kicking, but that seemed to be all it was doing.  He stepped around the front of the truck, walking over to the front of the thing, and it looked pretty dead.  Squirmy, but dead.  “Think we’re okay, we can just back-”

“Nathan, _down_ ,” Duke shouted, and Nathan didn’t think, he just ducked, and covered his ears, and Duke fired three shots in rapid succession.  Something hit the ground behind him, and he turned, not really wanting to see.

“...Shit.”

“Get back in the damn truck and get us the fuck _out of here_ ,” Duke shouted, and Nathan got back in the damn truck, eyes fixed on the horse-sized wasp that was spinning and twitching and scrambling on the ground.

“Get on the radio,” Nathan said, putting the Bronco into reverse and sending them back much faster than he probably should, but the wasp had gotten itself turned over, was standing up, and he didn’t want to test whether or not _it_ could get through the glass.  “Tell them what’s happening.”

“Laverne, this is Duke, we have an update on the bug problem out here, they’re getting bigger.”

“Bigger?”

“We got hit by a millipede as long as a schoolbus, and I just seriously pissed off a wasp that could carry off a ten year old.”

“Do we have a protocol for this?” Laverne asked, and Nathan shook his head.

“Nathan says no, Laverne, I think we’re going with buckshot and prayers,” Duke translated, and Nathan spun the wheel hard, throwing the Bronco into drive and gunning it down the relatively straight road.  In the rearview, he saw the wasp steady, and go after the millipede corpse, and hopefully that would keep it busy.

“Copy that, Duke.”

“We’re heading back in, we don’t have the tools for this,” Duke added, before he put the radio back down.  “I hate this job.”

“This isn't your job.  You’re not actually a cop,” Nathan replied, because they’d just gotten attacked by literal giant bugs, and he could either joke, or break down.

“I hate _your_ job,” Duke corrected, and then he laughed, high and hysterical, and Nathan laughed too, desperate and a little dangerous, and nothing, nothing at all was okay, but for just a minute, it felt like he could breathe.  Like he could keep breathing, so long as Duke was siting there and laughing with him.


	21. Chapter 21

Reports were coming in by the time they made it back to the station; two cars had diverted to deal with the doomwasp, and apparently, it had taken several shotgun blasts to put the thing down for real.  One of the officers involved had ended up requiring a trip to the hospital, which was, really, predictable.

Duke really, really hated this town.

Nathan was gearing up when Dwight intercepted them, Jennifer at his heels, and Duke managed a faint smile for her; she smiled back nervously.

“Looks like I made the right decision,” she said quietly, and Duke nodded.

“Yeah, that wasn’t something you needed to see.  That wasn’t something _I_ needed to see, for that matter,” he replied, and Nathan rolled his eyes as he pulled on a vest.

“Nathan, we have officers on bug control,” Dwight said, “I need you and Duke on figuring out what the hell is causing this, and _stopping it_.  That’s why you’re here, remember?  You’re the only guys I’ve got with experience actually _solving_ Troubles.”

“Small problem with that, Chief,” Nathan said, taking a shotgun out of one of the gun lockers, and yeah, see, the situation might suck, but Duke was kinda all there for Nate looking badass.  “I’m not the one who solves things.  Audrey is.”

“Audrey isn’t here,” Dwight replied, sharply.  “You are.”

“What do you want me to do, here, exactly?” Nathan asked, turning around, setting his shoulders, leaning into Dwight’s space.  “Half the town knows I’m the reason the Troubles are still here, and they aren’t real eager to sit down for a chat.  How, exactly, do you expect me to do what Audrey does, when _no one_ can do what Audrey does?”

“I don’t care _how_ you do it, just get it done,” Dwight answered, pushing back into Nathan’s space, not even a little impressed, and Duke sidled forward, catching Nathan’s shoulder and pulling him back a step, forcing him to back down.  He was usually all in favor of holding ground, but this was not a fight Nathan needed to be having.

“Easy, guys,” he said, giving them both his ‘we’re all friends here’ smile, and sidestepping so that he was physically blocking Nathan from moving forward.  “We’re all on the same side, here, we’re all on team no more giant bugs, and we will figure this out.”

“Duke,” Nathan said, voice sharp with warning, and Duke pushed him back another step by simply backing up into him.

“Nate,” he replied, very deliberately.  “We will figure this out.”

“See that you do,” Dwight said, and Duke glared at him, because Duke was trying to calm the situation down, and he did not appreciate that he had to, and he really didn’t appreciate Dwight tossing more kindling around before Duke had gotten Nathan settled.  “Because if you don’t, we’ll have to fix this the hard way, and none of us want that, but we cannot have giant insects wandering the streets.”

...It took longer than it should for Duke to realize what Dwight meant, even with the expectant look being directed at him.  Nathan apparently caught on at about the same time, because the steady pressure of Nate leaning against him- protesting being held back, or simply because he’d forgotten they were touching, Duke wasn’t sure- disappeared abruptly.  That actually stung, the sudden retreat at the reminder of Duke’s ugly ‘gift’, more than the implication that he would be expected to use it if necessary.  Duke didn’t _like_ the implication, sure as hell wasn’t ready to _agree_ , but he could understand, on some level, why Dwight would expect it.

Dwight, after all, was a soldier.  And from what Duke could tell, from what he’d seen and heard since getting back, Haven was a town at war.  Duke could forgive, if not obey, Dwight’s urge for expediency.

“Jennifer, can you give us a minute?” Nathan said, and his voice was icy.

“...Absolutely,” Jennifer said, turning quickly and leaving the weapon lockup, closing the door behind her.

“Are you out of your mind?” Nathan snarled, as soon as the door was closed, and yeah, wow, there was _rage_ in those words.  Duke wasn’t actually sure who it was directed at- Dwight, or Duke, or the situation in general, it was hard to tell.  And honestly, it was unsettling, a reminder that Duke had _missed things_ , because Nathan- the Nathan he’d grown up with, the Nathan he knew- didn’t rage like this, didn’t throw challenges around left right and center.  Duke teased Nathan about being stoic because he’d _always_ had that control, that almost-eerie ability to contain.

The Nathan Duke was seeing, now?  Didn’t.

“Pretty nearly,” Dwight replied, looming, propping himself up against the wall with a hand that was bunched into a fist.  “I don’t know what about this is unclear to you, Nathan, but this town is _coming apart_.  People.  Are.  Dying.  Good people, innocent people.  A lot of them.  And I don’t have the option of being precious about it, because I’m the one who got stuck trying to clean up the mess _you left!_ ”

“Hey, now,” Duke started, because yes, sure, Nathan had made a bad call, but Haven had been a seething mess long before Nathan had opened fire at Agent Howard- but neither Dwight nor Nathan appeared to be listening to him.

“I am not going to let you _use_ one of _my people_ -”

“You don’t _have people_ , Nathan, not any more,” Dwight snapped, harsh.  “The police aren’t yours.  The town isn’t yours.   _Audrey_ isn’t yours.   _Duke_ isn’t yours.  You _ran_ , Nathan, you turned tail and left the rest of us to deal with this, and there are _consequences_ to that, and you are going to have to deal with the fact that the rest of us are going to do whatever we have to do to keep moving forward!”

“That’s _enough!_ ” Duke shouted, because if there was a place he _didn’t_ want to be right now, it was caught between two furious cops in the middle of the weapons lockup of a police station when one of those cops was a literal bullet magnet and neither seemed to have much in the way of self-control.  “You-” he said, taking a step forward, and Dwight was bigger than he was, taller and heavier and trained, but they both knew that with proper motivation, Duke would win that fight, and Duke was feeling pretty damn motivated.  “Stop.  Just- stop.  You’re not wholly wrong, but you’re sure as hell not _right_ either, and you’re not going to get any damn cooperation from _either of us_ if you keep pushing.”

Then, very deliberately, he turned to Nathan, not sure what he was expecting; the combination of raw, trembling fury, utterly stricken self-loathing, and _desolation_ was unexpected, and hit him like a punch, but he didn’t have room to deal with all of it, not just yet.

“You,” he said, a little more gently, “Nate, I need you to chill.  Seriously.  You don’t need to argue my case, here, I’ve got that covered, and Dwight has a point.  We _cannot_ allow this Trouble to keep going, because people are going to get hurt.  That being said, we are not _killing_ anyone.  We will figure something else out, and you may not be Audrey, but you talked Marion down, and that’s something.  We’re not helpless without her, and I need you to remember that.”

Nathan blinked, jaw clenching, visibly trying to rein himself in, and Duke wished he had the faintest idea how to be comforting right now, but he didn’t know what to say, and couldn’t have said it even if he did.  He turned back to Dwight, who at least had the grace to look a little chagrined, and gave him a sharp smile.

“You and me, we’re going to have a conversation later, because we need to work a few things out.  First and foremost, that _I don’t work for you_ , but that can wait.  Right now, you have a police operation to oversee, and Nathan and I have work to do.”

“Looking forward to that conversation,” Dwight replied, and there was warning in the words, but there was also understanding, and Duke could let that go, for now.  They _did_ have things to work out, because honestly, Duke did not want Dwight as an enemy, he could understand him, could maybe even work with him, but it was going to be on Duke’s terms.

“You should be, I am a charming conversationalist.  Now if we can get a minute, here?” he said, and indicated the door with a sharp tilt of his head.

“...Yeah,” Dwight said, yielding, and he left, and Duke turned back to Nathan.

“You okay?” Duke asked, knowing that he wasn’t, but wanting Nathan to admit it.

“...Fine,” Nathan said, turning away, fumbling with a box of shotgun shells, and Duke reached out and took the box away, setting it aside.

“Nathan.  Don’t.  Seriously.  Do not lie to me.”

“How should I be, Duke?” Nathan snapped, turning back, eyes blazing, expression bitter, lost and angry.  “How should I be?   _I did this_.”

“No, you didn’t,” Duke said, and he grabbed Nathan by the shoulders, fingers digging in hard, trying to anchor them both.  “You didn’t.  And you have to stop thinking that way.  You did not cause the Troubles, you did not bring them here, you are not responsible-”

“ _I_ shot Agent Howard.  I killed him, because I couldn’t let Audrey go, and _that_ is why the Troubles are still here.  Tell me how exactly I’m _not responsible_?”

“Would you have shot him if Jordan hadn’t shot you, first?” Duke asked, shaking Nathan, trying to get him to _listen_.  “Or were you bluffing?  I was _there_ , Nathan, I was watching.  Would you have pulled that trigger, if you didn’t think you were going to die?”

“...I...”  Nathan stared, looking blank, looking lost, like he didn’t know.

“Would you,” Duke repeated, slowly, “have pulled that trigger, if Jordan hadn’t shot you?”

“I don’t know.  I don’t know, and it doesn’t _matter_ , you can’t blame Jordan for what _I did_ -”

“I can blame Jordan for whatever the hell I feel like blaming her for, let’s get that straight right now,” Duke said, “And that’s not my point.  My point is that you were backed into a corner, and you reacted.  Was it the right decision?  Who knows.  Did it have consequences?  Yeah, it did.  Is that an acceptable reason to tear yourself apart trying to fix it?   _No_.”

“You can rationalize it all you want, Duke, but people are dead because of me,” Nathan said, and Duke shrugged.

“Yeah, and?  People are dead because of me, too.  It sucks.  How many people do you think Dwight killed, before his Trouble kicked in?  He’s a soldier, he’s seen combat.  Audrey killed the Rev, and his people went nuts, you don’t think there were consequences to that?  People die, Nathan.  It happens.”

“I don’t want it to happen because of me!”

“Then stop wallowing, and get out there and _do your job_ ,” Duke snapped, frustrated.  “You want to make this right?  Then let’s _go make it right_.  You were helping people before the damn Barn, just because we _might_ have broken the off-switch- and we still don’t actually know that for sure, we don’t understand how any of this works, and destroying that damn thing might end up being the best thing you could possibly have done for this town, but we won’t find out if you don’t _pick yourself up_ , here, Nate- we don’t just _give up_.  Get your shit together, put on your game face, and let’s go _fix this_.”  Duke hesitated, considering, and decided it was probably an acceptable time to use the big guns.  “You know damn well that’s what Audrey would want you to do.”

Nathan tried to pull back, but Duke dug in harder, holding him in place, refused to let him retreat.  He _needed_ to get through to Nathan, needed him to engage, here, or they really were going to have a problem.

“Nathan.  Seriously.  I can’t do this alone, I’m a _way_ less believable Audrey than you are.”

The words startled a laugh out of Nathan, which was what Duke had been hoping for.

“I thought you didn’t want to do this at all,” Nathan said, finally.

“You want it done.”  It didn’t seem like too much to admit, after his earlier slip.  That, after all, had gone right over Nathan’s head; Duke was pretty sure he could get away with this, too.  “Audrey would want it done.”

“...Yeah.”  Nathan pulled back, and this time, Duke let him go.  He squared his shoulders, lifted his chin, put himself back together, and Duke had to appreciate the sight.  He looked resolute, at least, looked solid- no longer looked like he was about to shatter apart.  “Yeah, she would.  And I do.”

“Then let’s go get it done.”

“Yeah.”  Nathan turned, and headed to the door, and Duke considered for a second.

“Hey, Nate?”

“Yeah?” Nathan paused, looking back over his shoulder, one hand on the door.

“Dwight was wrong.”  Because at the end of the day?  Whatever, whoever, else he lost?  Nathan had at least one person.  And Duke would have his back.

“I’m getting that impression,” Nathan said, giving Duke a crooked smile.

“Good.”  Duke smiled back, and moved to follow Nathan back out into the station.  “So where do we start?”

“Same place we usually do,” Nathan said.  “With the two people who know more about the Troubles than anybody else.”

“...Ah, crap.”  Vince and Dave.  Of course.

This job _sucked_.

 

Six hours later, Duke had not revised his opinion.  He _ached_ , head to toe, courtesy of getting smashed into- and through- a wall by a wolf-spider of epic proportions, and he’d just been _lucky_ that it hadn’t managed to get one of its dagger-length fangs into him.  He was still discovering sticky patches of ichor on his clothes and skin, from the resulting mess when Nathan had blasted said spider into bits.  He was tired, and bruised, and he wanted to go home, take a shower, and sleep for a week, and he couldn’t yet.

On the plus side, though, he hadn’t committed any murders yet today, so there was that.  Once they’d _found_ her, it had been fairly straightforward for Nathan to talk Shawna Gardner down, and for the moment, everything was under control.  And it had been good, that it had been simple, that it had _worked_ , because Nathan was standing with a little more confidence, with a little more purpose, with a little more _life_.

It almost made up for the spider thing.

As it was, Nathan was filling out paperwork, getting his report in order.  Duke was sitting in Dwight’s office, feet up on the desk, waiting.

Dwight didn’t seem particularly surprised to see him when he walked in, just closed the door and locked it before heading around the desk to sit down in his chair.  Duke waited for him to get settled, then waited longer, letting the silence stretch out.  Dwight leaned back in his chair, meeting Duke’s gaze, calm and collected and patient.

It was honestly difficult not to respect him, just a bit.  That decided, Duke dropped his feet to the floor and leaned forward.

“So.  Dwight.”

“Duke,” Dwight replied, not moving.

“Y’know...  I told Audrey, once, way back when she’d just come to town...  She’d pulled me in on a case- well, actually, technically, Nathan pulled me in via showing up on the Rouge and trying to kill me, long story- but anyway, she asked me to help with something.  Tried to thank me after, and I told her I was gonna send her a bill.  That I charged double for night work.  She thought it was funny.”

“Is this your way of asking for money, because I gotta tell you, it’s not really working,” Dwight replied, dryly.

“No.  This is my way of reminding you that I don’t work here.  I have never worked here.  I am not a cop, I am not a detective, I am not a peace officer, I am not _any kind_ of law enforcement agent- and I am _definitely_ not a pet assassin.  I go where I choose to go, when I choose to go there, and I make my own calls.”

“We need you to be more than that,” Dwight replied, voice flat.  “That may have worked before, Duke, but it isn’t going to work now.”

“Yeah, see, you’re not hearing me.  This isn’t the kind of thing where you can dictate terms.  I.  Do not.  Work.  For you.”  Duke smiled, sharp and steady.  “That being said- I am willing to work _with_ you.”

“I’m listening,” Dwight said, though he didn’t sound particularly pleased about it.

“See, I like you, Dwight, I do.  I _get_ you.  You understand expediency, you understand acceptable risk, and I can respect that.  And right now, we have similar goals.  And I understand that the price for me following Nathan around is that I have to help out- no room for tourists on this trip, all that.  But I need you to understand, to _really_ understand- I am not here to protect the town, to save the innocent, or to slay your damn dragons.  I’m here to protect Nathan, and to find Audrey.”

“You know there’ll be a point where I can’t let you do that anymore?” Dwight asked, and Duke nodded slowly.

“I know there’ll be a point where one of us is going to get what they want, and one of us isn’t,” he said, picking the words out carefully, and Dwight nodded.

“See, I like you too, Duke.  You’re an untrustworthy pain in the ass, but you get the job done, and for someone who claims to be entirely self-interested, you’re down in the trenches with the rest of us more than you need to be.  And I don’t much like it, but I need someone with your... perspective.”  Dwight leaned back, looking thoughtful, and Duke could work with this.  Could understand this, the careful arranging of terms, the cautious alliance.  And there was a relatively low chance that Dwight would turn around and sell him out, which made him a much better ally than some Duke had had over the years.

“There’s something you need to know,” he said, after a moment, judging the risks.  “Because I need you to know this, so that you understand what you’re working with.”

“If this is about Nathan-”

“No.  No, this has... nothing to do with Nathan.  And I would rather Nathan not hear about it.”

“I’m listening.”

“You remember, when we found the box, and then you tried to steal it, and I cut you, and then threw you thirty feet out to sea?”

“Yes, that experience is pretty vividly imprinted on my mind,” Dwight replied, and he smiled, just slightly.

“I need to not do that.  I need to not have that be something you expect from me.”

“Duke, I know you don’t like what you can do, but you have to admit there are certain situations-”

“And in those situations, yeah, I know, sometimes the wrong call is the right one.  But it’s not that simple.”

“Okay.  How is it complicated?”  Dwight looked like he was actually listening, like he was gathering intel, and Duke was glad of that, because he hated having to say this, hated having to explain it, and he _needed_ Dwight to take it seriously.

“Because it’s the best high I’ve ever had,” he said, and the words were bitter.  “Because it’s a rush like nothing I’ve ever known, and because I’m not sure how many times I can take that hit and not start needing it.”

“...I see,” Dwight said, and his tone was careful, thoughtful.

“Everything I’ve found in my father’s notes, everything I’ve learned, everything... it all points to that being... the way this thing works.  It’s addictive.  And I can handle it, now.  I can ride it out and take the letdown, and I’m still in control, I’ve still got the reins.  But I can _feel_ the edge, I can feel...  I know that there’s a limit.  And I don’t want to hit that point.  I do not want to become my father.”  The admission was painful, but he forced himself to talk, forced himself to keep going, because he couldn’t tell Nathan, but _somebody_ needed to know.  Somebody needed to be prepared, in the event that Duke’s control failed.  Somebody who understood expediency.  “So I’m telling you.  It’s not that simple.  I need to not have that be something you expect from me.  Because sooner or later?  Sooner or later, I’m gonna be exactly what everyone thinks I am.  And I want that day to be a long, _long_ time coming.”

“I understand,” Dwight said, and Duke searched his expression, looking for any sign that he was lying.  He didn’t find one; Dwight looked serious, focused and thoughtful.  He looked like someone calculating odds, and making plans, and Duke could live with that.  Because sooner or later...

Sooner or later, he’d need someone to have a plan.

“Good.  Glad to hear it.”

“If I have to make a choice between pushing you too far, and letting people get hurt, you know what choice I’m going to make,” Dwight said, and Duke smiled, slow and brittle.

“Oh, yes.  I know exactly how that plays out.”  And this, this was why he could work with Dwight.  They understood each other.

“Good.  Glad to hear it.”

“Oh, and... About Nathan.”

“If I have to make a choice between pushing him too far, and letting people get hurt, you know what choice I’m going to make.”

“And that would be a very big mistake.”  Duke leaned back, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair.  “For a couple of reasons.”

“I assume you’re one of them?”

“You assume correctly.”

“I need him to do his job, Duke.  I can’t protect him if he doesn’t, and I can’t protect anyone else, either.”

“I want him doing his job, too.  But you push like that again, he’s not going to be functional, let alone doing his job, and every time I have to take a time-out to play amateur therapist, I’m not helping you keep this town under control.”

“Fine.  He’s your responsibility.  Keep him working.”

“Yes, sir,” Duke said, flashing an ironic salute.

“Get the hell out of my office, Crocker.  I’ve got work to do.”

“Have fun with that,” Duke replied, standing up.  He headed for the door, feeling reasonably satisfied with the outcome of the conversation.

“Oh, and Duke?”

He paused, hand on the door, and looked back.

“I’ll keep quiet about this, but my priority is the safety of this town.”

“I know.”  He let himself out, and headed back to Nate’s office.  Yeah, this could actually work.  He could do this.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting close to the end of this particular story- two or three more chapters, I think. It will have at least one sequel, though the plan is currently for two.
> 
> Y'all are wonderful, and I cannot thank you enough for reading.

“Good talk with the Chief?” Nathan asked, when Duke dropped into the chair in front of his desk, looking calmer than he had all day.

“Sorted out a few things,” Duke replied, stretching and wincing.  “You about done with your paperwork?  I need another damn shower.”

“Heroing is messy work,” Nathan agreed, smiling a little when Duke made a face.

“Yeah, right.  Seriously though, are we done yet?”

“...Yeah,” Nathan said, closing the file on his report, and setting it aside.  He could finish it up in the morning, he’d gotten the time-sensitive parts filled out appropriately, and what was left was really not that vital.  It’d been a long day, longer than he’d expected, and it was not unreasonable to call it a night.  “Kitchen still open at the Gull?”

Duke blinked, considered, and glanced at the time; he made another face, but nodded.

“Yeah, we got about half an hour before they close up.”

“Call something in, we’ll pick it up on the way,” Nathan said, and Duke sighed, but reached for his phone.

“Fine, but you’re picking it up, I’m not going into the bar looking like this, I run a quality establishment, there is no room for spider guts anywhere in my restaurant.”

“Fine,” Nathan said, not actually having a problem with that.  “Talked to Stan- he took Jennifer home three hours ago, so we don’t need to worry about her getting left behind.”

“Good, that’s good,” Duke said absently, before he turned his attention to his phone.  “Nora?  Nora!  Hey-”  There was a pause, and Duke looked flustered.  “Yeah, no, it’s-”  Another pause.  “It’s good to hear your voice, too, I’m sorry I haven’t seen you since I got back, it’s-”

Nathan looked down, covering a smile.  Duke looked so surprised that his employees were glad to have him back.

“Yeah.  Yeah.  No, I know.  Yes, I’m- no.  I’m sorry.  Nora.  Nora, can- attention here, please, Nora, I need a to-go order waiting by the kitchen entrance in... Fifteen minutes?”  Duke cut a glance in his direction, and Nathan nodded, because they could manage that easily.  “Fifteen minutes, yeah.  No, I’m- it’s been a long damn day, Nate’s going to pick up the order- yes.  Yes.  No.  Can I- yes.  Thank you.  Yeah, just- two spinach salads, a smoked salmon carpaccio, a chicken saltimbocca, and a coquille de mare.  Yeah.  No, I do not need- it is _not_!  Jesus, it’s just _dinner_ , do not-  Yes.  Thank you.  Yeah, that’d be great.  Yes.  Yes, I will try to be in tomorrow.  Okay.  Thanks.  Yeah, you too.”

Duke hung up, looking decidedly harried, and Nathan gave him an inquiring look.

“Just dinner?” he asked, and Duke sighed heavily and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Just- don’t ask,” Duke said, and Nathan shrugged.  “We going?”

“Yeah.”  Nathan headed to the door, Duke close on his heels.

It took just under the predicted fifteen minutes to get to the Gull, even with the five minutes Nathan took to tape a bit of plastic sheeting into the broken window of the Bronco, and he’d have to take it in, get the window fixed, get the side panel looked at- get it _washed_ , too, given the smear of millipede down the side- but he could probably make time for that later in the week.  When they got to the Gull, the lot was only half full, and Nathan parked, and got out to head for the kitchen- and stopped, because Duke got out as well.

“Duke?”

“I’m going to take my truck back,” Duke said, motioning.  “Really shouldn’t just leave it here, and until we can get that window fixed, we should probably be driving it, instead.  The Bronco won’t be in the way if you park it down at the marina.”

It was a perfectly reasonable point, and it _would_ be a better idea to have both vehicles available.  The trip back to the marina was less than two miles, it was five minutes at worst.  Duke would probably be a little more comfortable if he wasn’t relying on Nathan to get him anywhere he needed to be.

There was no reason for the sudden sense of panic.

“Okay,” Nathan said, and it was an _effort_ , it was a challenge to keep his voice level, to keep his tone casual.  He clearly didn’t do well enough, because Duke frowned, and took a step back toward the Bronco.

“Hey.  I’m not going anywhere until you get back, go grab the food and I’ll follow you out.”

Nathan thought he should probably resent the implication that he couldn’t hold himself together long enough to drive for five minutes without knowing precisely where Duke was, but given that it seemed to be _true_ , he elected to go with appreciative instead.

“...Okay.”  This shouldn’t be difficult.  He’d been fine, at the station, when Duke had stepped out to talk to Stan, to talk to Dwight.  He’d been perfectly able to focus, to work.

This shouldn’t be difficult, but it was.

“Nate.  Go get the food,” Duke prompted, moving to lean against the passenger door.  “I’ll be here when you get back.”

“...Right.”  It took a force of will to take a step, then another.  He’d been completely okay with going to get the food when Duke was going to be waiting _in_ the car, he could cope with it now.  He was not this broken.  He was not.

He refused to be.

He made it across the parking lot, to the sheltered kitchen entrance, and it should not feel quite so much like an accomplishment as it did.  Tapping on the door, he wanted to collect dinner and get back to the damn parking lot, wanted to get the drive home over with, wanted-

-just about anything other than dealing with Wade, so, of course, it was Wade who opened the door.

“Detective,” Wade said, with a predictable glower.

“Wade.  Here to pick up dinner, Duke called it in.”

“Yeah, I know, Nora mentioned.  Where is he?”

“Parking lot.”

“Why?”

“Rough day at work,” Nathan said, a note of warning entering his tone, because he didn’t really want to dwell on this.  He had not enjoyed the spider thing, the blind, overwhelming fear that had accompanied seeing Duke go down.

Though he would take another giant millipede if it meant not dealing with Wade right now, the millipede hadn’t done much in the way of actual harm.

“He’s tired and dirty and didn’t want to deal with people.”  Nathan paused for a moment, but when bags of food were not immediately forthcoming, added, “I’m also tired and not interested in dealing with people.”

“Right,” Wade said, crossing his arms over his chest, and Nathan wondered how much trouble he’d get in with Dwight if he arrested Wade for being an ass.

“Look, is the order ready or not?  I’d rather not have Duke waiting around in a dimly lit public place without good reason, right now.”

“You’re going to get him killed.”

“Duke makes his own choices,” Nathan snapped, trying to remind _himself_ that that was true.  Telling Duke not to do something invariably resulted in Duke doing the thing anyway, usually without help or backup.

“He makes bad decisions when you’re involved.  He always has.”

“Maybe so, but they’re his decisions to make.”  And what the hell that was supposed to mean...

“You-”

“Seriously?  Again?”

So, maybe Nathan wasn’t the only one having problems, then- Duke had obviously decided he’d been taking too damn long.  Which probably wasn’t a good sign, actually, but Nathan could work with both of them being a little bit broken.

Duke glared at Wade as he stalked over, and Wade glared back.

“Can you two not fight for just- literally, just long enough for us to get our food?  Please?  This is getting old, Wade.”

“Look, I’m not going to apologize for having a problem with this,” Wade said, and Duke rolled his eyes as he came to rest just in front of Nathan.  “You- what the _hell_ happened to you?”

“...Rough day at work,” Duke said, and Wade took a sharp step forward.

“What.  Happened.”

“Wade.  We’ve been over this.  Ongoing investigation.  I couldn’t tell you even if I wanted to, and I don’t want to!  What I _want_ is the damn food I ordered, so that I can go _home_.  It has been a very long day-”

“You look like you should be going to the ER, not back to that damn boat!  What the hell, Duke, you were in the _hospital_ two nights ago- what are you doing getting yourself all beat to hell?”

“What?  No, jesus, it’s not- it’s not _blood_ , it’s dirt, there was a thing, it- see, this is why I wanted you to get the food,” Duke said, turning to Nathan like this was his fault.

“I’m _trying_ ,” Nathan reminded him, because he _had_ gone to get the damn food.  It wasn’t his fault Wade had been lying in wait, ready to pick a fight.

“Duke-”

“Wade, if you do not shut the hell up and let us have our food, I swear to God-”

“You’ll do what, exactly, Duke?” Wade asked, and it looked for a second like the answer was going to come in the form of a left hook, but Duke took a step back, bumping against Nathan in the process.

“Fuck it, there’s food on the Rouge, I’ll cook, we’re leaving,” Duke said, turning and grabbing Nathan, pulling him along, and Nathan fell into step with him, because he wasn’t interested in pushing Duke any further.

“Don’t walk away from me, damnit,” Wade snapped, jumping after them and grabbing Duke, yanking him to a halt.  Duke winced, and Nathan didn’t doubt that it hurt- Duke had gone through a damn _wall_ a few hours ago, his back was probably a mess of bruises, and Wade didn’t look to be making any effort to be gentle.

Nathan almost, _almost_ threw a punch himself, but his better judgement kicked in at the very last second, and instead, he caught Wade by the wrist, twisted sharply until he’d let go of Duke, and slammed him back against the wall of the Gull, one arm across his throat.

“Don’t,” he instructed, voice flat.

“Hey, hey, _easy_ ,” Duke said, dragging him back a step, trying to get in between them, and Nathan tangled his fingers in the front of Duke’s shirt and pushed him back, keeping him _out_ of the middle, because if Wade pushed back, Duke needed to not be in the way.

“Violent _and_ possessive, what a great combination,” Wade snapped, and Nathan took an abrupt step back.  “You picked a real winner, Duke-”

“We’re _not_ -” Nathan started, because Wade had done the same damn thing at the hospital.

“It’s none of your _goddamn business_ ,” Duke snarled, over Nathan’s words, and Nathan went quiet, startled by the non-denial.

“It is _absolutely my business_ ,” Wade shouted back.  “Your _safety_ is my business!”

“I’m a _goddamn smuggler_ , Wade, _nothing in my life is safe!_  And even _if_ this were what you thought it was, which it’s not, on pretty much any level, it _still wouldn’t be your business_.  It’s _my goddamn life_.”

“Bull _shit_ it’s not what I think, you-”

“You do not want to finish that sentence,” Duke said, and his expression was _dangerous_ , feral and threatening, and Nathan took a step forward, reached out, because he’d seen Duke in this space before.  Had seen him when he thought he was backed into a corner, when he’d do whatever it took to win, and that was something he was pretty sure Wade wasn’t actually prepared to deal with.

“Duke,” he said, quiet and warning, resting his hand on Duke’s shoulder- not grabbing, not confining, because that would likely get every bit of that aggression turned on him, and he wasn’t prepared to deal with it right now either.

“Not now, Nate,” Duke said, shrugging his hand off.

“Duke.  You need to take a step back.”

“I-”

“Now.”

“ _Fuck_ you,” Duke snapped, but he took a step back, some of the edge bleeding out of his posture.  “I can handle myself, Nathan.”

“Know you can, not so sure about your brother,” Nathan said, because it looked like Duke needed the reminder.  Duke blinked, and looked back at Wade, and more of the wildness passed.

“Fuck,” he said, sharply.

“C’mon.  We’re leaving.”  He looked at Wade, and tapped the badge pinned to his belt.  “Try and stop us, and I’ll arrest you.”

“Fuck you, Wuornos,” Wade spat, and Duke took a sharp step forward.

“He’ll arrest you so that I don’t handle this my way,” Duke hissed.  “And just so you know?  Between the two of us?  I’m the one you need to be afraid of.”

“That’s _enough_ , Duke,” Nathan said, and Duke backed off, turning and storming off in the direction of the parking lot.  Nathan waited a moment, to make sure Wade wasn’t going to grab him again, before he followed after.

Duke was practically at his truck by the time Nathan caught up, and Nathan wasn’t sure whether or not he should reach out, say something, or if he should just let him cool off.

“I swear, Nate, if I can’t get him out of town soon I may just kill him myself,” Duke said, seething, and Nathan waited, letting him talk.  “Self-righteous, arrogant, busybody _sonofabitch_ -”

“Can’t really blame him for worrying,” Nathan pointed out, in the interest of fairness.

“Yes, I can,” Duke snapped.  “I don’t need him worrying about me, I don’t need his protection, I don’t need him trying to be my big brother _now_.”

“Why’s this got you so wound up?” Nathan asked, and Duke laughed.

“Why- oh so many reasons, none of which I need to share.”

“I thought we weren’t doing that anymore,” Nathan said, a little frustrated.

“Doing what?”

“That thing where you don’t tell me things.”

“You don’t really want these answers, Nate, I promise you that.”

“Why?”

“Because you need me, right now.  You need my help, and you need somebody to keep you together, and I’m the best you’ve got, and it’s better for both of us if you can keep pretending that I’m somebody you actually like having around until we can get Audrey back,” Duke said, shrugging, all of the fight just... falling away.  Duke slumped, and in the dim light from the restaurant, it was like watching him disappear, watching him fade into shadow, into translucency.  It scared the hell out of Nathan to see.  “And you start asking those questions, pretty soon you won’t be able to do that.”

“Are you really that sure that I hate you?” Nathan asked, and the words were tight, frayed along the edges.  It’d gotten that bad, then, that broken.  And that...  That was Nathan, not Duke.  It had to be- because Duke kept coming back, kept offering chances.  Duke showed up every time Nathan needed him, even when Nathan didn’t deserve it.  And Nathan kept shutting him down.

“You’re still asking questions you shouldn’t,” Duke replied, with a short, empty laugh.

“Do you remember my sophomore year in college?” Nathan asked, and Duke straightened up, taken off-guard by the question.  The movement brought him back into the light, enough so that Nathan could see his expression, and it was wary.

“Ye-es?” Duke said, drawing out the word.

“You remember spring break?”

“Yes.”  That was more sure, laced with a dark edge of humor.

“You saved my ass, after that thing with the girl-”

“The pretty barista, right, her boyfriend was that gigantic, ‘roided up-”

“Yeah.  That thing.  I swear, he never even saw you coming, you were just _there_ -”

“He was about to cave your skull in with a wrench, Nate, what was I supposed to do?”

“You remember the night before?”  They’d had a fight; Nathan honestly didn’t remember what about, he’d been more than a lot drunk at the time, but he remembered the fight.  Remembered Duke throwing the first punch, remembered hurling insults and dismissals.  He remembered Duke telling him that he was on his own, that he could find his own way back up to school, that they were _done_.  He remembered saying that he was fine with that, that he was better off.  That Duke had been dragging him down.

He remembered the sense of confusion, of awe, when he’d been on the edge of disaster, and Duke had appeared out of nowhere, taking on someone probably twice his weight and with a good six inches on him in height.

“I remember.”

“Pretty sure you told me you were never speaking to me again.”

“Pretty sure I said a lot worse than that.  You had a few choice comments of your own, if I recall correctly.”

“I did.”

“We’re not talking petty squabbles, here, Nate.  It’s not the same thing.”

“Why not?”

“Because we’re not those people anymore.”

“You sure about that?”

“Nathan, you actually took the time, when Audrey- your partner, your friend, the woman you are head over heels for- was _missing_ , to get that damn maze tattooed on your arm.  You were _that sure_ I was to blame, and you were _that sure_ you wanted me dead.  I think I’m making a pretty safe call, here.”

The reminder burned, because what could Nathan say to that?  What argument could he offer, that Duke wouldn’t be able to counter with actual evidence?  How could he ever possibly counter that one point, that one moment?

“Duke-”

“It’s okay, Nate.  It’s- it’s fine.  It’s done.”  Duke shrugged, like it didn’t matter, like it wasn’t painfully obvious that he believed that to be the sum total, the defining point, of everything they were.

Like it wasn’t painfully obvious that Duke genuinely believed that Nathan could go back to that point at any time.  And he’d still spent the last few days literally keeping Nathan in one piece.

“It’s not okay.  It’s not anything close to okay.”

“Nate-”

“No.  No, damnit, that-”  Nathan moved forward, closing the awkward distance he’d kept out of respect for the temper Duke had been in, reaching out, and his hand was shaking, and Duke watched him, expression hollow and wary in the dim light, like he didn’t know if it was an attack or not, and when, _when_ had Nathan become okay with that uncertainty?  When had he accepted that things were irrevocably broken, and it was therefore _okay_ for Duke to look at him like he was afraid?

He didn’t know, couldn’t pinpoint the moment, and that scared him.

“None of this is okay,” he said, catching Duke’s shoulder.  “But I want to fix it.”

“Some things can’t be fixed,” Duke said, and Nathan shook his head.

“Maybe, but not this.  Not us.”

“Don’t do this to me, Nate,” Duke said, and his voice broke, and Nathan could see the tension in him.  “Don’t-”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t pretend that you can handle what I am.  Don’t pretend that there’s a shot at going back to where we were, where we could have been.”

“Won’t know if we don’t try,” Nathan said, urgent and imploring, because he could not leave things like this.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” Duke warned, and Nathan shook his head.

“Don’t care.”  Duke was shaking, now, nervous tension that Nathan could see even in the dark, and it was reckless, it was selfish, it was everything Nathan had been too much of already, but the sense of an impending fall was back, the breathless, off-balance anticipation, because something had to give, and Nathan didn’t know what it was going to be.  Didn’t know, and wasn’t sure he cared, so long as something _did_.

He didn’t feel it when Duke slammed into him, didn’t feel the hand that tangled in his hair and pulled him in, didn’t feel the pressure of lips against his own.

He didn’t feel it, but he damn near buckled under the pressure anyway, because he could read the desperation, the _need_ , in the speed and the force and the sharp taste of blood overlayed against _Duke_ , in the strangled sound Duke made, resigned and angry and pushed past his limits, and it wasn’t what he’d expected, wasn’t anything he’d guessed at, but he didn’t care.  He tangled his fingers in Duke’s shirt, held on for all he was worth, and fought to keep his eyes open, to get as much sensory input as he could.

When Duke tried to pull back, Nathan held him in place, long enough to make the point that he didn’t want him to break and run.

Duke looked on the edge of panic, like he hadn’t planned that, hadn’t thought it through, and Nathan kept hold of him.

“That was a mistake,” Duke said, quickly, and Nathan shifted one hand up, cupping Duke’s jaw, and it was killing him that he couldn’t _feel_ him.  That he couldn’t drag his palm along Duke’s cheek and feel the soft rasp of stubble, that he couldn’t feel the heat of his skin.  He brushed his thumb over Duke’s lips, careful- there was the blood he’d tasted, from where his split lips had re-opened under the force of the desperate kiss.

“No it wasn’t,” he said, and Duke blinked, breathing in quick little gasps, still clearly caught between fight and flight.  Nathan leaned in, and fumbled his way through a kiss, and it was probably clumsy and inexpert, but he wanted it, wanted to taste, and Duke’s eyes slid shut, another sound escaping him- needy, this time, eager.

Nathan wanted more of those sounds.

Duke pushed against him, hard enough to rock him back, hard enough to create space between them, eyes wide and wild.

“Yeah, no.  This is a very bad idea, Nate, this is- you don’t want me.”  Which was, pointedly, not saying that this wasn’t what _Duke_ wanted, and Nathan pushed him back two steps, crowding him against his truck.

“Don’t tell me what I want.”  Duke made a sound of frustration, and he looked shattered, but he pushed back again, keeping Nathan at just under arm’s reach away.

“Nathan.  Seriously.  You don’t want this, you want her.”

“So do you,” Nathan pointed out, and Duke laughed, and Nathan had no idea how he could possibly manage to convey amusement and bitterness so easily with the same sound.

“Yeah, but it’s a little different, Nate.”

“How?”

“Because it’s _always_ been about _you_ , Nate!” Duke snapped.  “Because as much as I love her?  And I do, you know that I do- as much as I love her-”  Duke broke off, tried to pull away, and Nathan held him in place- didn’t move closer, didn’t close the distance again, but kept him from retreating.

“So you can want both of us, but I can’t want both of you?” Nathan asked, and Duke flinched away from the words.  “How’s that reasonable?”

“That’s-  It’s not that simple-”

“It could be.”

“No, it can’t,” Duke replied, but whatever fight he’d been having with himself, whatever high ground he’d been trying to hold, he lost; Duke dragged Nathan forward, and kissed him again, then pushed him back sharply.  “Come on, let’s get out of here.  Before we attract a crowd.”

Nathan blinked, looked up, and there were people headed for their cars, drifting out of the Gull in twos and threes, and yeah, maybe a parking lot wasn’t the best place to have this conversation.

“Okay.  You lead, I’ll follow.”  In part because Nathan wasn’t entirely sure that Duke wasn’t still on the edge of fleeing, and Nathan didn’t intend to give him the opportunity.  Duke looked, for an instant, bleakly amused, but he shook his head.

“Forget it, I’ll pick the truck up in the morning.”  He stepped forward, pushing Nathan along as a result, and headed for the Bronco.  Nathan followed, close enough that they were practically tripping over each other.  Duke didn’t seem to object, just reached out to grab Nathan’s sleeve and held on.

Nathan mirrored the gesture, a flicker of something possessive and pleased and dangerous running through him.

It wasn’t what he’d expected, but something had finally given.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter was actually very difficult for me to get written, but here it is.  
> You guys are wonderful, and I cannot express how much your kind words mean.

This was a terrible, terrible idea, and Duke knew it.  Knew it intrinsically, knew it intimately, knew on every possible level that this was not going to end well, that it was going to end in blood and tears.  Most likely his own.

He officially didn’t care.

The drive back to the Rouge was silent, tension all but crackling in the air between them, and Duke was only a little surprised when Nathan grabbed him and pushed him up against the hood of the truck as soon as they’d parked, pressing into his space.  He was intense about it, staring with a sort of eagerness that was almost as unsettling as his rages were- emotional, exposed, _unchecked_.

Duke was the one who leaned in, yanked Nathan into a kiss, hard and demanding and needy.  It was odd, a little awkward- Nathan responded, but without any precision, without any grace, fumbling his way through something that was so intimately physical.  Duke could work around that.  He could accept awkward and fumbling, because Nathan was _responding_.

He’d probably respond better once they got inside, where there was light enough that he could see.  Duke pushed Nathan back a step, breaking the kiss, and Nathan made a quiet sound of frustration.  It made Duke a little weak in the knees, honestly, but he wasn’t planning to admit that.

“Yeah, yeah, I know, _inside_ ,” he said, pushing Nathan back another step.  “C’mon, Wuornos, pick it up a bit.”

Nathan responded with a very pointed look, and Duke grinned and sidled past him, closer than he needed to be, and headed for the door.  Nathan caught him by the arm, pulled him back, and kissed him again before he let him move away, and it was too close to perfect, too close to everything Duke had wanted for _years_ -

-he wasn’t doing this.  He was not talking himself out of this.  He was going to do the selfish thing, here, he was going to take this opportunity in both hands and _hold the fuck on_ , because maybe it wouldn’t last and maybe it would be a disaster and maybe Nathan would never speak to him again in the morning, but right now?  Right now, Nathan was looking at him like he _wanted_ him, heat and intensity and a tiny spark of mischief in his unsteady smile, and it was the most alive he’d looked since Duke had found him at that shitty bar.

And fuck everything else, fuck the consequences.  Duke wanted this.

Everyone already knew he was a selfish asshole, it wasn’t like it’d shock anyone to find that out.

Nathan tugged on him, pulling him out of his thoughts and into a stumbling step forward.  He immediately looked concerned, and Duke flashed him a taunting smile.

“Eager much?” he said, and Nathan flushed, color crawling up his cheeks.

“You’re the one who said to pick it up,” Nathan replied, and Duke’s smile widened, taking on a predatory cast.

“You’re right, I was.”  He jumped down onto the deck of the Rouge, pulling Nathan off-balance, and having to steady his stumbling descent, and Nathan laughed, and it was like they were coming home after a few drinks, giddy and loose and simple, like that stupid trip to Miami, all over again.

Hopefully without the snarling, vicious fight in the middle, though.

He tried to get the door open, which was harder than it usually was, mostly due to Nathan plastering himself against Duke’s back while he was trying to manage the lock.  Apparently the nuzzling thing was actually going to be a thing, Nathan pressing his face into the crook of Duke’s neck, which won a frustrated, eager noise from Duke, because he couldn’t just _enjoy_ it yet.  Duke tilted his head anyway, giving Nathan better access, and Nathan nipped him, a sharp, careful press of teeth, and Duke damn near fell over.

“ _Fuck_ , Nate, lemmie get the door open, at least-”

“Hurry it up,” Nathan mumbled, the words indistinct, blurred against Duke’s skin.

“Well if you’d stop _distracting me_ -”

“I’ve seen you crack a safe with worse distractions,” Nathan said, and Duke finally got the damn lock to cooperate, and stumbled through the door, taking Nathan with him.

“No, you haven’t,” Duke replied, spinning around to push the door shut- and, incidentally, to push Nathan back against the door.  Or maybe the other way around.  Either way, he got the door shut, winding up chest to chest with Nate, and trapping him in place.

“I have so, Mr. Santigo’s office, freshman year?  I thought we were going to get _shot_.”

“Not half as distracting as what you were just doing,” Duke replied, and Nathan gave him an uncertain little smile.

“Liked that?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”  Nathan leaned forward, and Duke pulled back, not letting him make contact.  Nathan frowned, clearly confused, and Duke shook his head.

“I need a shower,” Duke reminded, because as much as he _very definitely_ wanted to continue, he was still covered in bits of dead bug, and that was not something he could forget for any length of time.  Even with the compelling distractions.  ...Actually, _particularly_ with the compelling distractions, because that was not a sensory component that needed to be involved here.

“Okay.”  Nathan looked uncertain, and Duke smirked.

“You could help with that.”

“...Okay.”

Duke stepped back, hesitating just long enough to admire just how good ‘flushed and unsteady’ looked on Nate.  Really, really good, as it happened.

He kicked off his shoes, and made Nate do the same.  Then he dragged Nate down to the bathroom, because yeah, the faster he got cleaned off, the faster he could get back to being all over that.

Nathan backed him up against the bathroom wall before he could get the shower going, and went to town on his shirt, quite deliberately popping buttons as he pulled it apart, sending them flying off into corners to ping and rattle against the metal walls.

“I like this shirt,” Duke objected, and Nathan raised his eyebrows.

“Pretty sure it was already a lost cause,” he pointed out, dragging it down off of Duke’s shoulders, and that was absurdly hot, it really was-

-right up until Nathan flinched, and stepped back, and Duke was very much not okay with that.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded, because yeah, no, Nathan was not allowed to panic _now_ -

“I wasn’t thinking, I should have- you’re a mess, I should’ve been careful,” Nathan said, and Duke blinked.  Nathan shifted so that Duke could see the mirror, and yeah, okay, he’d looked better.  Two fist-sized bruises marred his chest, and red, scraped-raw bruising spilled over the tops of his shoulders.  He imagined that the rest of his back probably looked about the same, and turned to try and see.  Yeah, no, he looked about like he’d been flung bodily through a wall and landed upon by a giant fucking spider.

“Great,” Duke said, annoyed.  “Maybe I should have asked for money.  I think this should qualify me for hazard pay.”

“What?”

“Nothing, something Dwight said, it’s not important.  Seriously, though, get back over here, it doesn’t feel as bad as it looks.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I have way more urgent concerns right now,” Duke said, shimmying out of his jeans, and he was gratified by how quickly Nathan seemed to forget about the bruises, staring with lips parted.  “So get back over here.”

Nathan took a hesitant step forward, and Duke grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, pulling him in close, kissing him hard.  He was going to have to figure out the best way to make that worthwhile- well, worthwhile to _Nate_ , anyway, it was plenty worthwhile to him- but his usual motion-compensation was probably not super effective on such a small scale, not without risking actually hurting one or the other of them.  Nathan liked coffee, liked scotch, had a weakness for maple syrup, he could probably do something with flavor...

He’d work on it, assuming he was given the time.

When he pulled back, he gave a sharp tug on Nate’s shirt.

“Your turn,” he pointed out, and Nathan, to his credit, didn’t hesitate.  He stripped off his shirt, and tossed it aside, and Duke could understand, a little, why Nate had initially drawn back when he’d seen Duke’s bruises, because his own initial response was still to flinch.  He reached out, and very carefully ran his hands over Nate’s ribs, over the slowly-fading marks, and shook his head.  “We’re a hell of a matched set,” he mused, but the reminder was helpful- Nathan had cracked ribs, Duke actually had to be _careful_.

Nathan caught his hand, and held it against his skin, and Duke almost had to look away; Nathan looked shattered, looked torn in two.  Desire and fascination warred with bleak acceptance and a loss so deep even Duke could feel the pull of it.

He wished, fiercely and without apology, that he’d been the one to kill Max Hansen.  And he knew, with absolute certainty, that if he’d known then what he knew now?  He would have.  He would have done it gladly and with savage glee, because this was one Trouble that Duke wanted to see dead and buried.

It worried him, a little, how easy that thought was.  How little remorse he felt at the idea of killing someone related to Nathan, if it would let Nathan feel.

“You were the last person I felt,” Nathan said, and Duke frowned, taken slightly off-guard.  “This time, when it came back.  You were the last thing I felt, before everything went away.”

“...That night.  The fight.”  Horror hit Duke, low and visceral, and he tried to pull his hand away.  Nathan didn’t let him, fingers tightening sharply, sharp enough to bruise.  He hadn’t put it together, and he was blind, absolutely blind, to not have made that connection, and a thousand things that had never quite made sense clicked.  “Nate-”

“You didn’t know?”  Nathan looked confused, looked shocked, and Duke wondered if it was actually possible to die of shame.  Years- _literally years_ \- of barbed comments and harsh words and mocking, and no _fucking wonder_ Nathan had been building to a goddamn boil, no wonder there’d been resentment simmering.  No wonder Nathan had been ready to damn well kill him.  Duke couldn’t blame him, fuck, Nathan deserved a goddamn _medal_ for not actually going through with it.

“No.  I didn’t know.  I- I didn’t understand.”  He tried to pull away again, but Nathan’s grip was brutal, and Duke would have to get rough to get loose, and that was the last thing in the world he wanted to do just then.

The last thing Nathan had felt had been Duke’s fists.  Duke wasn’t sure he could cope with that information.

“I thought- you really didn’t know.”  The shock, the confusion, was fading, replaced by some sort of understanding, and Nathan pulled him in, touched his lips with careful fingers, and it still hurt, even that gentle pressure on the torn skin there.

“This is my fault,” Duke choked out, and Nathan smiled, slow and small.

“It really isn’t.”

“How-”

“You didn’t know.  And we used to fight all the damn time.”

“Nate-”

“Stop talking, Duke,” Nathan instructed, and he cupped Duke’s chin in his hand, leaned in and kissed him, and Duke wasn’t entirely sure how that was an appropriate response, _at all_ , but Duke had just about zero possible ground to argue, right then.  He let Nathan kiss him, leaned into it, and nevermind that it stung.

Nathan was careful, and Duke was right, it was better in the light.  When Nathan pulled back, Duke was fighting to keep his breathing steady.  Nathan looked justifiably smug.

“You’re supposed to be taking a shower,” Nathan pointed out, and he pushed Duke back, towards the shower stall.  “Remember?”

“Nate-”

“Let it go, Duke,” Nathan instructed, and yeah, no, that- that was not something Duke could do, given the givens.

“No, seriously-”

“Yes, seriously,” Nathan said, pressing Duke back against the wall of the shower, and reaching out blindly for the controls, and Duke only barely managed to catch his wrist before he managed to turn them on.

“Pants,” he said, because Nathan didn’t seem to want to let him use full sentences just then, and Nathan blinked.  “Your pants.  Still on.”

“...Right,” Nathan replied, and honestly, Duke wouldn’t have been all that worried about it except that he was out of replacement phones, and didn’t really want that to be a priority in the morning.

Nathan backed up, and ditched the rest of his clothes, and bruising aside, Duke was... very okay with the view.  Very, very okay.

Nathan came back like he wasn’t sure of his welcome, cautious and self-conscious, and with all that Duke had taken from him, giving back a little bit of confidence seemed a small enough gesture.  Duke reached out, caught Nathan by his hips and drew him closer, kissed him briefly before stepping back to admire, openly, clearly.

Appreciatively.

“Always expected you’d be gorgeous,” he said, and Nathan _blushed_ , and Duke grinned, trying to find a comfortable space, some way to pack up the complexities of the situation he’d just tripped over so that he could be as attentive as he needed to be.  “I gotta say, though, it is very nice to be proven right.”

“Shower,” Nathan reminded, and Duke gave a faint laugh.

“Fine, yes, shower, I remember.”  And that was easier, a hint of teasing, a hint of exasperation, a hint of balance.  He nudged Nathan into a corner where he’d be out of the way of the spray of the water until he could get the temperature right- which meant that Duke took the initial cold blast, and yeah, that was a load of fun, and he cursed and fiddled with the dial, and Nathan gave him a judgy look.

“Too cold?” he asked, and Duke glared.

“Yes, it generally is when it just turns on.”

“You could have stood out of the way.  Not like it would’ve bothered me.”

“One of these days you’re going to listen when I tell you that I’m not going to stand back and watch you get hurt just ‘cause you can’t feel it,” Duke said, and Nathan continued to look judgy.

“It’s a little bit of cold water, I’m not going to melt.”

“Just- shut up and pretend you appreciate the gesture,” Duke replied, giving Nathan a crooked smile.

“Appreciate you cringing and recoiling?  Yeah, that’s a waste of a perfectly good view.”

“That meant to be a compliment?  Because it sounded like there was maybe a compliment in there somewhere,” Duke teased, and Nathan reached up to block the spray with his hand, angling it to splash Duke in the face.  Duke sputtered, and Nathan laughed, and Duke resolved to find a creative punishment for that, later.  When he wasn’t busy trying to keep himself from turning sappy over Nathan being _playful_.

However adorable it was.

Nathan let the water go back to normal, and Duke glared, but clearly it wasn’t half as intimidating as he’d meant it to be, because Nathan just smirked at him and jockeyed for space under the spray.  It took a little doing, and a lot of careful nudging (on Duke’s part) and slightly less careful elbowing (on Nathan’s part), but they both managed adequate access to the water, and there was a lot of subtle touching and sly glances and it was simultaneously more innocent and more intimate than Duke had expected.

Nathan always had been good at screwing with his expectations.

When they were both thoroughly clean- very, very thoroughly, subtle touching had become a lot less subtle with the addition of soap to the equation, and Nathan was clingy as hell, which Duke had no objection to whatsoever, but he was also controlling as hell, apparently, which was awesome and frustrating because he was also somehow focused on the task at hand instead of hopelessly distracted the way Duke was- Duke managed to get the upper hand long enough to drag Nathan into the bedroom.

“You’re- we’re tracking water,” Nathan complained, and Duke gave him a harder shove, pushing him up against the bed.

“Ask me how much I do not care.”

“Duke-”

Duke cut him off with a kiss, and he was pretty sure he was going to _like_ having that option moving forward, because it was remarkably effective.  Nathan seemed to forget his objections, or at least stopped trying to voice them, one hand digging bruises into Duke’s hip, the other tangling in his hair.  Duke shivered, making an approving sound low in his throat when Nathan _tugged_ , just a bit, and relishing the sharp inhale that got in return.  They could figure this out; it wasn’t like Duke didn’t have a... wide range of experiences to draw on, and Nate was... definitely interested.  Which laid _that_ concern to rest; the question of ‘could they’ was fairly academic, it was mostly an issue of ‘how’.  And ‘how’ was totally manageable, with proper motivation.

Motivation Duke had in fucking _spades_.

“What’re you comfortable with?” he asked, managing to pull away enough to talk.

“Dunno.  Anything.  Everything,” Nathan replied, moving to nuzzle Duke’s throat again, and Duke struggled to put together an articulate response.

“That’s- that’s a little broad, there, Nate,” he pointed out.  “Like, that’s- that’s as broad as you could get, actually.”

“Don’t care,” Nate replied, and wow, Duke was not prepared for being the cautious one, between the two of them, this was new and unexpected.  And kinda hot, actually, but he only went in for no limits when it came to poker, so.

“Yeah, no, see, _I_ care,” Duke said, and Nathan made a frustrated sound, and nipped him again.  “Hey!  Okay, that’s- that is cheating, no, you do not get to distract me, here.”

“Not trying to distract you, trying to get you to _focus_.”

“Nathan.  I need you to work with me, here,” he said, and Nathan growled but pulled back.

“Fine.  What.”

“I need to know what you’re comfortable with.”

“I don’t _know_ ,” Nathan replied, sounding frustrated, a blush creeping along his cheeks.  “This isn’t...  I haven’t...”

“Well now, I _know_ that ain’t true,” Duke replied, deliberately misunderstanding.

“Not in general, you ass,” Nathan replied, looking more annoyed and less embarrassed, which was the point.  “But since...  And also, with...”

“Ah.”

“Yeah.”  Nathan paused, and frowned, a flicker of something that looked like _jealousy_ showing for a second.  “Didn’t know _you_ had, either.”

“Small town, Nate, and most of it already hates me.  I don’t advertise.”

“You could have told me.”

“Yes, because we were totally sharing intimate secrets when I got back into town.  Yeah, no, don’t think so.”  Nathan’s fingertips dug into Duke’s hip, hard- well, harder- and yeah, no, that... that was definitely jealousy.  Of all the damn things for Wade to be right about.  “Wasn’t because I didn’t want to,” Duke temporized, leaning in a little, pitching his voice just a little bit lower, “just couldn’t.”  Nathan’s grip relaxed, slightly, and Duke flashed Nathan a grin.  “Besides, you know now.”

“Kinda hard to miss,” Nathan agreed, with a crooked smile of his own.

“So.  Since this is new ground...  These are the rules.  You need to tell me what you like, what’s working and what isn’t.  You need to tell me if you want to stop.  I will tell you if I need to stop.”

“Seriously?” Nathan asked, and Duke caught him by the chin, making Nathan meet his eyes, fingers digging sharply into skin.

“Am I touching you like I want you, or like I want you to stop?” he asked, and Nathan blushed.  “ _Yes_ , seriously.  Can you work with that?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.  Good.”  Good.  They weren’t exactly in-depth rules, but they covered the basics, and Duke would feel a hell of a lot less like he was taking advantage with them spelled out plainly.  He gave Nathan a teasing smile, and a shove, knocking him back onto the bed.  “Now lie down.”

“You’re an ass,” Nathan said, but he was laughing as he said it.

“You wouldn’t know what to do with me if I wasn’t,” Duke replied, admiring the sight of Nathan sprawled out naked on his bed, turned on and tuned in, lips curved up in an affectionate smile.

Admiring, and committing to memory, because sooner or later, it’d all come crashing down.

“Get over here, I want to touch you,” Nathan said, and Duke grinned, and went to his knees on the bed, crawling up Nathan to kiss him, hard and needy.

He’d take what he could get, and be grateful.


	24. Chapter 24

Nathan hadn’t actually spent a lot of time thinking about the way Duke looked.

He’d known, intellectually, that Duke was attractive; it was a difficult fact to miss, when one of Duke’s best tools had always been his ability to drop his head, look up through his lashes, and flash a smile that would melt most any woman he needed to.  The amount of trouble he’d gotten them out of that way, over the years, was not insubstantial- the amount of trouble he’d gotten them _into_ the same way was even greater.  It had simply never registered as something Nathan needed to pay attention to, except when it was actively a threat to something Nathan wanted.

He’d been missing out, not paying closer attention.

In the warmly-yellow light from the (slightly ridiculous) hanging lamp, Duke was limned in gold; the hard contours of his muscles cast ink-black shadows, and the contrast was dazzling, damn near fine art.  He was sleek, and lean, and Nathan couldn’t get enough of the sight, couldn’t get enough of the way his muscles flexed and shifted beneath his skin, the play of light and shadow, the visible strength and grace in his form.

And that was nothing compared to the look in his eyes.  

Nathan had seen Duke flirt, had seen him woo, had seen him seduce- he’d seen Duke look at strangers, at friends, at Vanessa and Evi and _Audrey_ \- and he’d never seen this.  Intensity and certainty and _fire_ , eyes dark, pupils wide, and still full of heat, and it was, he knew, purely a trick of his mind, but he could almost feel the weight of that gaze, could almost feel it rake over his skin.

It was the closest to feeling he’d been in six months, and he didn’t want it to stop.

Nathan reached out, tangling his fingers in the loose tumble of damp curls that framed Duke’s face, and Duke’s eyes fell half-closed; Nathan tugged, and Duke made another of those _sounds_ , hot and low and approving.  That same dangerous _something_ flared up, wild and possessive, and Nathan drew Duke up, as carefully as he could, until he was close enough that Nathan could get his mouth on Duke’s skin at the hollow of his throat.  He tasted water, and the faint lingering trace of fragrance from the soap, and Duke made another sound, lower and breathier, tilting his head back, and there was something decidedly _vulnerable_ about his pose, back arched, head tilted back- tilted toward the hand still gripping his hair- throat bared in invitation.  

Nathan didn’t realize he’d rocked his hips up until Duke gasped out a curse.

“Fuck, _Nate_ ,” he said, shifting, moving- pressing down, Nathan guessed, and he liked the thought.  Liked knowing that the shudder he could see run through Duke’s frame was because of him.  Wanted to see more.

Wanted more, in general.

“Want you,” Nathan said, words muffled, and Duke pulled back enough to catch his gaze, flashing a sharp-edged smile.

“Working on it,” he promised, and started to move away.  Nathan didn’t let go, and Duke groaned and licked his lips when that resulted in his hair being pulled a little more firmly than before.  “I’ll be working on it much faster if you let me get to the drawer over there,” he said, gesturing.

“You’re not going to hurt me,” Nathan pointed out, very reluctant to let Duke move away, even for just a moment.  Duke blinked, and an expression of raw disbelief brought his brows sharply together and a confused half-smile to his lips, and he blinked again.

“...Yeah, wow, okay, no,” Duke said, the confusion shifting to disapproval with a touch of amusement.  “That- first of all, even if that’s how we were doing this?  There are steps.  Seriously.  Non-optional steps.  And second?  You’re out of your goddamn mind if you think that’s how we’re doing this, because maybe you wouldn’t feel it, but I could still hurt you.”

“And it’s a better idea to risk me hurting you?” Nathan asked, scowling, and Duke sighed.

“Nate.  I can tell you if we need to slow down, and I’ve done this before, you haven’t.  Would you trust me, please?  I know what I’m doing.”

Nathan didn’t like the reminder, _at all_ , didn’t like the idea of Duke with other guys; the thought of it sent a spiral of utterly irrational anger through him.  He wanted to touch, to mark- to erase any previous claim, and replace it with his own.

The intensity of that need scared him, a little.

He reluctantly let go of Duke, who shifted over so that he could get at the drawer.  Perched on his knees, with his back to Nathan, head bowed as he rummaged, the bruises and scrapes from their earlier adventure were all too clear.  Nathan tried to remember, tried to call up the sensation of bruises and aches and torn skin, and wondered, _marveled_ , at Duke’s loyalty.  It couldn’t be the first time one of their investigations into the Troubles had left marks, had left bruises, but Duke always came back.  Always showed up when he was needed.

It wasn’t his job, but he did it anyway.

Duke turned back, and for just a second, Nathan thought he saw a flicker of something, nerves or uncertainty or a trick of the light, before he was faced with a rogue’s smile.

“Catch,” Duke said, tossing a bottle at him, and Nathan reacted well enough to keep it from hitting him, but not well enough to actually catch it.

“You’re two feet away, you couldn’t just hand it to me?” Nathan grumbled, sitting up to find where the damn thing had ended up.

“Nope,” Duke replied, shifting back over, rescuing the bottle from the folds of the sheet, and straddling Nathan with a casual ease that Nathan didn’t believe.  Deflection, after all, was stock-in-trade for Duke, and he didn’t think that moment of hesitation had been a trick of the light.  Duke was putting on a good show, but he wasn’t as confident as he wanted Nathan to think he was.

Which, oddly, made Nathan feel a little more confident, himself.

He reached out, and trailed his fingers along the line of Duke’s jaw, enjoying the way Duke turned into the touch.  How much he seemed to genuinely crave the contact.  Duke caught his hand, holding it in place for a moment, before he very deliberately made eye contact, and again, the intensity of his gaze was damn near physical.  Keeping his eyes locked on Nathan’s, Duke turned his hand so that he could kiss the palm, and it didn’t matter that Nathan couldn’t feel it, it still sent a tremor of _want_ through him, sensual desire that had his heart pounding in his ears.  Then, just as deliberately, Duke pressed Nathan’s hand to his skin once more, and guided it down, from his cheek to his jaw to the column of his throat, and Nathan realized, abruptly, suddenly, that he’d reached out with his left hand.  That the stark black lines of the maze were plainly visible against his skin, a threat- a _promise_ \- of harm to come, and Duke held his hand there, at his throat, _trusting_.

Nathan moved, pressing forward, and slid his hand around to cup the back of Duke’s neck, pulling him in and kissing him as carefully as he could.  Duke groaned, the sound heated, desperate, and the tenor of the kiss changed, Duke taking control in a decidedly aggressive way.  Nathan let him, following his lead until he pulled back, flush and panting.

“Duke,” Nathan started, and his voice was a rasp of sound, and Duke shivered visibly, before rolling his hips in a way that left Nathan breathless.

“Like that?” Duke asked, and Nathan nodded, not sure if he was asking about the kiss or the sound or the movement, but the answer was _yes_ to all three, so it didn’t really matter.  “Good.  Keep your eyes on me,” he instructed, as though there was any chance that Nathan was going to do _anything else_.

There wasn’t, not when Duke was slicking his fingers up, and bending in ways that made Nathan envious, because he was _flexible_ , and that- that was, was good to know, all things considered.  Nathan didn’t know where to look, where to focus, because the flex of muscles, the shifting movement of hips, the play of light over strong thighs, that was all... entrancing, but Duke’s _expression_ , the intensity, the heat, the tiny flickers as he worked himself open like this was something he _practiced_ -

-it was a wealth of information, all of it sensual and carefully seductive, and for the first time in a long, long time, Nathan didn’t feel broken.  Even with the immense weight of frustration that he couldn’t _feel_ what was happening, he felt- _aware_.  Tuned in.  He knew that he was breathing hard, that his pulse was racing, that his muscles were jumping in response to touches that his conscious self couldn’t register, but that some part of his body could.  He knew that he _wanted_ , and it was torture, and it was perfection, and Nathan didn’t have the words for the emotions running riot in his chest.

Duke was talking, a careful recitation of feelings and dirty thoughts and curses, and Nathan had always been amazed by his ability to talk and keep talking, but right now, it was perfect.

“The way you _look_ , Nate,” he purred, and there was _satisfaction_ in the rough, breathy words.  “Wanted you to look at me like that for _years_ , never thought it’d happen, fuck, I want you-”

“Then do something about it,” Nathan managed, his tongue clumsy on the words, his attention too focused for clarity.

“Lean back, just-” Duke shifted, pushing Nathan back just a little, and moved, and Nathan could see, could _watch_ as Duke took him in hand, and carefully lowered himself down, and Nathan had to blink spots out of his vision at the _noise_ he made.  Had to work to keep from moving, to keep still, to let Duke control the situation.  “Fuck, _yes_ , Nate-”  More words, more curses, more _sounds_ , and Duke _moved_ , slow and leisurely, and Nathan still couldn’t figure out where to look, where to focus.

His attention caught, for a moment, on the rapid flutter of Duke’s pulse, visible when he tossed his head back; to the sharp lines of his hips, the obvious strength in his legs and his back and his abdomen as he hovered, then dropped, shifted and rolled his hips and did it all without seeming to tire.

Euphoria, a rush of pure giddy _satisfaction_ , rolled over him, and he was shaking, gasping, and Duke growled out a _fuck yes_ , moved a little differently, and came with Nathan’s name on his lips, and Nathan wanted time to stop, wanted everything about this to stay exactly as it was.

For a fragile moment, it did, and then Duke moved, dropped down next to him, heavy-lidded and breathing hard and looking absolutely _wrecked_ in the best possible way, and Nathan sprawled out next to him and tried not to think.

  
Later, after they’d worked up the will to get cleaned up and actually ready for bed, Duke simply dragged Nathan over onto his side of the bed, pressing back against him without any apparent concern for his bruises.

“You sure?” Nathan asked, and Duke laughed, low and warm.

“You’re going to end up over here anyway, might as well just start this way,” he replied, and he sounded happy about it, so Nathan didn’t press the issue.  He did trail numb fingertips up and down Duke’s side, barely able to see what he was doing in the dark, but finding the all but imperceptible contact soothing.  Duke didn’t seem to mind, in that he pressed up into the touch at first, and then settled with a contented sigh.

They were quiet for a long while, and Nathan thought Duke might have fallen asleep.  He was on the edge of it, himself, when Duke spoke again.

“Nate?”

“Hmm?”

“I need that promise, now,” he said, and Nathan didn’t immediately understand.  He made another questioning sound, and it was muffled against the skin of Duke’s shoulder.  “Promise me we’re going to look for another option.”

Nathan understood, then, in a rush of alarm that left him chilled.

“Okay,” he said, quietly, pressing a kiss to the curve of Duke’s shoulder.  “Okay.  I promise.  We’ll look for something else.”

Duke said something else, but it was quiet, quiet enough that even Nathan’s hearing couldn’t pick up on it- particularly not with the way he could hear his heart pounding in his ears.

He’d told a lot of lies, in his life.  That one, though, that was probably the worst he’d ever tell.


	25. Chapter 25

Duke could get used to this.  He _shouldn’t_ , but he _could_ , so very easily.  Waking up with Nathan wrapped around him, breathing against his skin, arm wrapped around his waist, legs tangled together...  It was comfortable, familiar in a way it had no right to be.  It was, in its way, better than the sex, and that was not something Duke was ever going to admit to anyone, for any reason.  Ever.

Though the sex had been pretty fucking good, too.

Duke shifted, and pressed back against Nathan, ignoring the dull wash of pain that accompanied the movement; he’d had worse, and it was totally worth it.

He did hope they had a reasonably low-impact day today, though, he could use at least a little time to recover from the whole being knocked through a wall thing.

Nathan made a quiet noise, and tightened his hold, nuzzling the back of Duke’s neck; Duke figured he was still asleep until he pressed a soft, slightly clumsy kiss just below Duke’s ear.

“Morning,” Nathan mumbled, and Duke couldn’t keep from smiling, couldn’t keep the flutter of warmth and contentment and _hope_ down.

“Morning,” he replied, turning over so that he could face Nate.  Nathan grumbled at the movement until he realized what Duke was doing; then he shifted a bit to make it easier, and yeah, Duke could... definitely get used to this.  Could get used to being treated to the soft, sleep-muddled look he was getting, could get used to the almost reverent, careful way Nathan was touching him.

“Sleep okay?” Nathan asked, trailing his fingertips up and down Duke’s arm, watching the place where their skin met.

“Yeah.  You?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”  And Duke probably took more pride in that than he should, probably took more satisfaction out of the idea that Nathan slept peacefully than was warranted, but fuck it.  He liked knowing that he could have that effect, that being close to him let Nathan _relax_.  “You want breakfast?”

“Yeah, we skipped dinner.  ...Also lunch.”

“It’s fine, I’ll make something.  You want anything in particular?”

“...No,” Nathan said, and there was hesitation there, some measure of discomfort.  Which, seriously, was a little confusing, given that they were talking about breakfast, not the fate of the world, and given that Nathan was still idly petting him, so it wasn’t a sudden discomfort with being close.

“...Okay,” Duke replied, pitching his voice to make the word skirt the edge of being a question, hoping for some clarification.

“Just... nothing sweet,” Nathan said, and that was just plain _strange_.  Nathan adored sweet breakfast foods, always had, hell, the man would eat pancakes at any hour of the day-

- _oh_.  Pancakes.  Self-punishment, then, or something he’d said to Audrey, and yeah, okay, Duke could work around that.  Would work around it, if that was what he had to do, because there was just about nothing- including the sharp pang of something uncomfortably like jealousy- that was going to make him fuck this up right now.

“Savory it is,” he said, with an easy smile, and he moved to roll away, to stand up, and Nathan caught his arm, kept him in place.  Duke raised an eyebrow, not sure why he was being restrained, and Nathan leaned in, kissed him carefully.  When he pulled back, he gave Duke a searching look.

“Last night was... good,” he said, and it was awkward, it was uncomfortable, but it was also _genuine_ , and Duke could live with that.

“Yeah.  Yeah, it was definitely that.”  Duke was in full agreement on that point, had been waiting for that to happen since they were fifteen, was... very invested in it being something that continued to happen.

“Is...  Was this...”  Nathan trailed off, looking lost, looking like he wasn’t even sure what he was trying to ask, and Duke quirked a smile, faint and guarded and he _hated_ being vulnerable, hated having to do this in words.

“It’s always been about you, Nate.  I told you that.”

“Wish I’d known that years ago.”  The regret in Nathan’s voice was heavy, was palpable.  It had _gravity_ , and it sent a shiver of unease down Duke’s spine, a warning note that all was not fucking well in his world, and he pushed it down, ignored it, because damnit, he was going to let himself _have this_ , for however long he could keep it.

“So do I.  Would have made a lot of things easier.  But you know it now.”  Duke leaned in, stole a kiss, and it was demanding, it was needy, it was all the things he didn’t want to be, but he’d never been any good at pretending he wasn’t.  “So now all you need to do?  Is remember it.  I’m on your side, here, Nate, I have your back.  No matter what.”

“You deserve better.”  The words were stark, awful in their simplicity.  Worse because it was so painfully obvious that Nathan believed it.

“Yeah, well.  I’ve always been good at taking what I can get,”  Duke replied, and he couldn’t keep the bitterness out of the words, because Duke had never wanted anything _better_.  He tried to pull away, needing some space, but Nathan pulled him close, kissed him hard and rough and possessive.  His grip was as rough as the kiss, too rough- he held on like he thought he could fix them both if he just held tight enough.

Duke kissed back until he tasted blood, dug his fingers into Nathan’s skin with the same foolish desperation- like he could make Nathan feel half of what he felt, if he just kept trying.  If he just gave enough of himself.

They were a hell of a matched set.

He was honestly surprised when Nathan rolled him onto his back, when he pressed him down, careless in a way he hadn’t been before.  Needy, aggressive, _desperate_ in a way he hadn’t been before.  And it shouldn’t have been half as appealing as it was, but having Nathan’s attention so intensely fixated, having him touch and kiss and cling, breathing ragged and hands trembling, well, that was a hell of a rush.  And really, Duke was no stranger to flirting with disaster.

It was hard and clumsy and fast, with none of the finesse, none of the control of the night before.  Between them, they managed just enough presence of mind to not _completely_ forget certain necessary steps, but they were both going to have new bruises to show for it, new marks pressed into their skin to chart the path of grabbing hands and eager mouths and careless motions.

Duke was pretty damn okay with that.

  
“Okay, we... definitely need to shower before we go to the station,” he pointed out, eventually.  He didn’t really want to move; he could have been perfectly content to stay exactly where he was for the rest of the day, but Nathan had been back on the job for two days, so far, and had already missed one of them, and one of them needed to be responsible enough to remember that they had somewhere to be.

“You okay?” Nathan asked, words muffled, and at some point, Duke was going to ask about the absolute fascination Nathan had with his throat.  ...Eventually.  When it was habit enough that pointing it out wouldn’t risk making it _stop_.

“Yeah, no, all good,” he assured, and it wasn’t _completely_ true, but it was true enough.  He could take a bit of rough handling, after all.  “Told you, I’d tell you if I needed to stop.”

“Okay,” Nathan mumbled, and he sounded like he wasn’t quite sure he _believed_ Duke, but it could also have been exhaustion or afterglow or just the fact that he still had his head resting against Duke’s shoulder, lips brushing skin, and Duke didn’t really care enough to make the distinction just then.

“Seriously, though, shower, let’s go, you have a job to get to, and I was supposed to be making breakfast.”

“Thought I was supposed to be the responsible one,” Nathan replied, not moving, and Duke laughed a little breathlessly.

“That’s the theory.”

“Then as the responsible one, I say we stay here.”

“Yeah, no, that- I mean, yes, that would be my preference, too, but see, we have somewhere to be.”

“You hate my job.”

“...Yes, that is true, but I was explicitly informed by someone I don’t actually want to fight with that it’s my responsibility to keep you working.”

“I thought you didn’t take orders from Dwight,” Nathan said, nipping Duke’s shoulder with a little more force than necessary, before he pulled away with a very deliberate display of reluctance.

“Ouch.  Also, I do not take _orders_ from anybody.  I do, however, make deals when necessary.”

“And that was necessary?” Nathan asked, and yeah, wow, that was... Duke wasn’t sure what that was, but there was an edge to it, possessive and defiant and confusing.

“Look, Nate, you want to have a career criminal with a family history of _batshit crazy murder sprees_ following you around at your job as a law enforcement professional, you’re going to have to deal with some conditions,” Duke replied, dodging the actual content of that agreement.  Nathan wouldn’t likely appreciate Duke interfering on his behalf with Dwight, particularly when the implication had been that Duke thought Nathan was a little too emotionally fragile to handle Dwight being an ass about things; it was easier to make it nothing more than a commentary on Duke’s _serious fucking flaws_ as a stand-in partner for a _cop_ who dealt in _Troubles_.

“Don’t lie to me, Duke,” Nathan said dryly.  “You were the one who wasn’t comfortable with people wanting you there- nobody was telling you not to show up.”

“Why are you only observant when it’s inconvenient for me?” Duke asked, offering a teasing pout, because when misdirection didn’t work, distraction sometimes did the trick.

“Habit,” Nathan replied.  “Answer, please.”

“Yes, it was necessary, no, you don’t need to hear the details,” Duke said, rolling his eyes.  “You know, if you want to do the interrogation thing, I am okay with that, but I expect you to put more work into it.  Cuffs, maybe, make an effort, we could find a mirror-”

“What?”  Nathan looked completely confused for a moment, before he caught on and _blushed_.  “You- we are not doing that.  I might actually have to arrest you again at some point, we are not...  I am not turning it into a _game_.”

“Seriously, Nathan, if we get to the point where you’re arresting me, pretty sure we’re going to have bigger problems than you remembering fucking me in your handcuffs,” Duke replied, with a wicked smirk and a wink.

“You are impossible.”

“Thank you.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“I know.”  Duke smirked, and Nathan rolled his eyes.  His expression shifted when he tried to sit up; a dull wash of pain rolled down his back, and he hissed out a breath.

“Thought you said you were okay?” Nathan asked, a hint of urgency in his voice, and Duke smiled wryly.

“Yeah, no, that- not the issue.  I just need to not get thrown through any walls today, that’s all.”  Nathan didn’t look convinced, or less guilty, and Duke sighed.  “Seriously, I am fine, stop it with that look.  I’ve had worse.  Hell, I’ve had worse _this week_.”

“That does not actually make me feel better,” Nathan said, frowning.

“Just- you want to mother hen, fine, but do it in the shower, because we are seriously going to be late at this rate.”  Duke shifted over, and rolled to his feet, and yeah, okay, so maybe he could have been a _little_ more careful, but he wasn’t exactly _fragile_.

“I- being concerned about your well-being is not _mother henning_ ,” Nathan objected, following close on Duke’s heels.

“Nate.  Seriously.  You know damn well I can take a few bruises.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” Nathan replied, sounding irritated.  “You actually _hurt_ when you get hurt.”

“Yeah, well, you can make it up to me later.  I’m pretty easy to distract.”

“No you’re not,” Nathan grumbled, and he glared when Duke backed him out of the way of the water as he turned the shower on.  Duke ignored the dour look, though he did make a point of crowding into Nathan’s space to mostly avoid the cold spray himself, as well.  Also because he was enjoying the fact that he _could_ , that Nathan responded by reaching out, touching and kissing instead of by pulling back.

He wasn’t sure how long it was going to take before he believed that, honestly.

They showered quickly- well, relatively quickly, there was still a fair bit of distraction that happened, and Duke wasn’t gonna apologize for that- but they were still definitely running late by the time they were done.  Late enough that breakfast was, by necessity, purchased rather than cooked, and Jennifer called to tell them she was driving to the police station on her own, so they didn’t need to swing by to collect her.

For the second morning in a row, Duke followed Nathan into the police station as if he had a right to be there, as if he belonged there, and it was still decidedly unsettling when everyone else just accepted that.  When he got as many nods of acknowledgement as Nathan did, as many friendly smiles as disdainful ones.

At some point, his life had taken a very strange turn.  He’d regret that more if Nathan didn’t have one hand on the back of his neck, guiding him along absently.

“Good, you’re here,” Dwight said, catching them before they’d even made it into Nathan’s office, “I need you to head down to the old Cartwright Mill, we’ve got reports of a disturbance, and it sounds like a Trouble.”

“What kind of disturbance?” Nathan asked, sounding almost normal, almost interested.  Sounding almost like the good cop who cared about his job and his town that he’d been for years.

“Localized earthquakes,” Dwight said, handing Nathan a printout of whatever report had been made.  “It’s possible it’s natural, all the properties out that way are on well water, something could have shifted, but it’s pretty unlikely.”  Nathan glanced over the report, and nodded.

“Okay.  We’re on it.  Jennifer’s on her way in, you got a handle on that?”

“Yes, that- I, I’ll come up with something for her to do,” Dwight said, and Nathan nodded as though Dwight stammering wasn’t highly amusing, and Duke admired his restraint.

“We’ll check in as soon as we know anything.”

“Regular check-ins,” Dwight countered, raising an eyebrow.  “Keep me in the loop, I want to know you’re alive at least once an hour.”

“Once an hour?” Duke asked, because that was a far more tightly-defined limit than yesterday’s.

“You hear something from Vince?” Nathan asked, tone sharpening.

“No, and that’s what bothers me.  He should have gotten back to me with something more meaningful than ‘I know who it wasn’t’ by now.  So be alert.”

“We will,” Duke said, a hard note of promise in his tone.  He had no intention of letting anyone take another shot at Nathan.

“Regular check-ins,” Nathan yielded, with a sigh.  “You heard anything from... anyone?”

“...Not yet,” Dwight said, sounding sympathetic.  “And at least no news isn’t bad news.”

“Right.”  Nathan’s expression flickered, a note of frustration, of disappointment, showing, and Duke shifted sideways, jostling him enough that he had to recover his balance.  Nathan glanced sideways, and his expression steadied, and he turned his attention back to the report in his hand.  “Let me know if any news comes in while we’re out.”

“You know I will.”

“Okay.”  Nathan nodded, and turned back around, and Duke followed him out to the Bronco.  Settling into his seat, he propped his feet up on the dash, leaned back, and watched Nathan carefully.

“You’re staring,” Nathan pointed out, after a moment.

“You know we’re going to find her, right?” Duke said, and the words were a promise, plain and simple.

“...I know.”

“We’re going to bring her home, Nate.  She’s alive, and she’s waiting, and we will figure this out.”

“What makes you so sure?” Nathan asked, looking over, and there was a hint of desperation, there, and... envy, maybe, like he wanted some of the certainty Duke had, and didn’t know how to find it.  Duke smiled, slow and confident, trying not to let any doubt show.

“Because it’s us, and it’s her, and it’s Haven.  I mean, come on, Nate- you really think there’s any chance we aren’t going to make this happen?”  Haven had to have a few more miracles left to give, after all.  “She’ll hold on, and we’ll figure this out.  I can’t think of three more stubborn people.”

And there was one other thing, something too childish to mention, too much a combination of hope and wishful thinking- a few words, etched into a box, a message with his name on it.  One foolish promise attached to a legacy of darkness and pain.

Omnia vincit amor.

The universe owed him this one, and he meant to collect.  Whatever it took.

Nathan shrugged, expression considering, a hint of something that might have been hope lurking in the faint curve of his lips.

“Suppose so.”

It wasn’t much, but it was something.  For now, they had a job to do.

They’d figure this out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the end of Aches. I have already started working on the sequel, and will probably have the first chapter up by the end of this weekend (though posting will be a little complicated throughout the next two weeks or so as I navigate holiday expectations). Pains will be a direct sequel, picking up within a day of where Aches leaves off.
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading, for sticking with this. It means the world to me, and I have had so much fun working on this story, I can't even describe it. The next two are also going to be... long, so I hope you'll bear with me.


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